#Intense and Passing Infatuation

[szatears]

Could you do a sinners story. That’s a Stack x Mary x Black!reader set now. Where they slowly fall in love with reader who’s baddie and include some jealousy.

three's trouble, stack & mary.

summary: stack had always had a thing for you. you never thought much of it because he was a huge flirt like that and also because of the other girl he was always entertaining. but maybe, just maybe, you could have a bit of fun with that?

pairings: stack x blackfem!reader, stack x mary, mary x blackfem!reader.

warnings: slight smut (one day i'll go the whole way), some descriptions of reader, mary being jealous of reader.

notes: this one is kinda long! i'm a smoke girly through and through but this request may have bumped stack up my ratings a little 😛 also by 'set now' i'm assuming you mean in today's era but if that's not what you meant then i wholeheartedly apologise 😭

It started off as a joke. When Smoke and Stack opened up their juke joint, you had originally gone there with a couple of your girls, until it became a routine place for you guys to meet up and debrief, letting loose as the night's events would take you away.

It wasn't until the fourth time you went there that you met Mary. You were on the dance floor with your girls when she almost bumped into you, turning around with an apologetic face. She hovered over her words as she spoke to you, taking in your face and that gorgeous two piece you had on you.

Something clicked in her head in that moment, it was all fuzzy, not quite connected, but she just knew she'd be seeing more of you.

And that she did.

It became a weekly thing, going to the joint. The first time you met Stack was no accident; it seems he had actually sought you out from the crowd. He wanted to know what it was about this girl that Mary kept going on about.

Mary wasn't infatuated to say, she was more... interested. There was something about you that drew her in, the way you laughed at her jokes, how effortlessly your body moved to the rhythm of the music as you both danced, the intense eye contact... It really drew her in.

Stack wasn't really what you expected. Perhaps you just thought he'd be like his brother, Smoke. Cold, tough, not interested in anything that doesn't benefit him in a way, or at least that's what you gathered from all that you heard.

But he wasn't like Smoke, at least not entirely. Stack was clearly the more chilled of the two, the one open to having a bit of fun.

The joke itself was based on how much of a liking Mary and Stack took to you. You'd be told that they didn't always tolerate people outside of their immediate circle, that there was just something special about you.

When Stack began to call you his girl, or when Mary started to affectionately show you off to anyone who would listen, you started to think there was more to your relationship with them than you suspected.

That being said, you weren't surprised when Stack greeted you with an arm thrown over your shoulders, pulling you into him every time he saw you since the say you met.

"There's my favourite girl," he'd drawl out with a huge smile, an icy pink drink in his hand waiting for you.

"Hey, Stack," you'd kiss his cheek, taking the drink from him and allowing him to take your hand in his, leading you to the section of the joint him and Smoke fixed up nice and neat for them and their special guests.

You felt the eyes on you as you walked behind him, albeit he was moving at a fast pace through bodies that parted so he could pass. He was respected like that.

"Where's Mary?" You asked when he sat you down right next to him, one of your legs resting over his lap as his arm lay low around your waist, holding you to him.

You had to lean up close to his ear to ask over the loud blues that was being played on the stage, presumably Sammie. Your new 613 styled hair tickled his face a little when he leaned closer to you to answer.

"She's around, I ain't too sure where," he waved you off, almost like it irritated him to answer. You came to the conclusion that Stack and Mary had a complicated relationship, it was pretty obvious to anyone who watched them for more than a moment.

At times you got caught up in the middle of their arguments or tiffs, where Mary would complain to you about Stack being Stack, and Stack would tell you to tell her to "ease off a lil'". It was always something with those two.

You stayed in his company like that for most of the night, mainly because Stack wouldn't exactly let you get up. You were a catch, he knew that and you did too.

He saw the eyes you'd get from every guy here and then, but none of them would make a move whilst you were with him. They'd wait until after, but even then, the fear of messing with Stack's girl would keep them away.

"Damn, Stack, save some girls for the rest of us," Melo laughed as he dapped him up. Melo was one of the guys that Smoke and Stack tolerated, for more reasons than just the fact that he was a funny guy. You thought it had something to do with the 'business' that they handled, and you were probably right.

Stack smirked, his hand subtly rubbing your ass over the skirt you wore. "Man, gone on," he gestured to Melo.

"Nah, real shit though, where Mary at?"

"I'on know, does it look like I got her on a leash? She's wherever she's at." He snapped. You frowned at that, coming to the conclusion that they had definitely gotten into it before you arrived.

Melo held his hands up in surrender, walking away to the bar. It was like he could feel you judging him, because when Stack looked down at you after reaching into his pocked for a prerolled blunt, he shook his head. "Don't you start on me too, ma" he mumbled, fumbling in his pockets for a lighter.

"Hm," was all you said. "I'm gonna go look for her."

He didn't stop you, try to make you stay. He let you go after her.

Mary was on the other side of the joint, laughing it up with some girls you'd never seen before. She spotted you just as you spotted her, her face brightening up at the sight of yours.

"Hey, there is she is right now! Look girls, this is the fine lil' lady I was talking to y'all about earlier," she held your hand as she brought you to the group. You smiled at them all, trying to fight away any awkwardness.

"You look good," Mary brought her arms to rest around your neck, intertwining them together. Yours rested loosely around her waist, the two of you almost flush together.

"Thanks, doll," you made a kissy face at her, not expecting her to actually kiss your lips. It was a short kiss, and she pulled away with a huge smile. Poor girl was gone. "What's up with you and Stack though? Y'all fighting again?"

Mary rolled her eyes, removing a hand from around your neck to pull her dress down a little. You recognised the dress, it was one you helped her pick out on the many shopping trips the two of you took together with Stack's money. It was a deep red, came up to her mid thighs and exposed her back at the behind.

"That man ain't shit," she groaned. "Talking 'bout I get on his nerves and don't know how to leave him alone. Maybe don't send mixed signals then?!"

You nodded as she ranted, her friends now dispersing across the joint to leave you two alone. This was nothing you haven't heard before, Mary and Stack always got into it about something along the same lines as their last argument.

"Maybe I should just have you be my new thing instead of him," Mary frowned, leaning her body on yours. You smiled at her words.

"I wouldn't mind that."

*

A couple days later, you assumed they'd be on good terms again but it seemed not. You were hanging around in your apartment when you heard the door open, confusing taking over your face because no one else had a key. Before you even had a chance to grab something incase you needed to defend yourself, you heard a voice call out for you.

"Where you at, baby?" Stack asked, taking his shoes off by the door.

"Elias, I told you to stop picking my damn doors," you kissed your teeth, exhaling a much needed sigh of relief after that small scare.

"Then start answering your phone," he said like it was the most obvious response. He kissed your lips briefly, mumbling a "hey" before he made his way to your kitchen, coming back to you with a bottle of water.

"What brings you here?" you asked, settling down on the sofa.

He didn't reply straight away, instead he took the time to admire you as he drank. You weren't wearing anything too special, a small, white spaghetti strapped tank top with light grey joggers that belonged to a lounge set. You looked good. You always did. Hell, you could be wearing the most basic thing ever and Stack would find you drop dead gorgeous.

A small smirk made its way to his face as his thoughts trailed off to other things, making you tilt your head at him.

"Hello?" you nudged him.

"Sorry, darling," he finally snapped out of his trance. "You got me a lil' distracted there."

You smiled, like you always did when he flirted with you. He put the cap back on his bottle, placing it down on the coffee table in front of him before his arms reached out for you, pulling you into him.

You let him guide you over his laps, straddling him with your palms resting flat against his chest. Stack's hands rubbed over your ass as he leaned further into the sofa, his eyes staring right into yours.

"You didn't answer my question," you looked back at him.

"I can't pay you a visit no more? Damn," he sighed, squeezing at your hip.

"I didn't say all that," you rolled your eyes. "You and Mary keep getting into it and then dragging me in your mess."

The day before, Mary had come over to yours. Originally she planned to convince you to come out with her, but you had had enough of partying for a couple of days. So she stayed in with you.

What started off as you two watching movies and making dinner turned into her hands caressing gently over your body, your lips on hers and a whole lotta noise.

"That ain't nothing new," He said.

"Yeah? Maybe that's a sign, I don't know..."

"A sign for what?"

"A sign that—" you were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing, a puzzled expression on your face as you removed yourself from Stack's lap to answer it. There was nothing that annoyed you more than unexpected guests, but two? This was a new record now.

You opened the door, eyes widening at the sight of Mary.

"Hey, girl," she smiled at you. She looked down behind you for a brief moment, her eyes landing on Stack's shoes. She look back at you, eyes narrowed before she moved past you and inside.

"Yeah, come right in. No, I'm not too busy at the moment," you mumbled to yourself. It wasn't long before you were hearing raised voices and all sorts of cuss words being thrown.

"Really?! So you can be here, around her, but you can't be bothered to come see me?"

"Mary, calm the fuck down and watch who you talking to," Stack ran a hand down his face, his mood completely soured as he reached for a blunt in his pocket.

"No! Because you're such a fucking liar! I swear to God," she laughed bitterly, turning to face you now. "And when were you gonna tell me about this. Huh? After I slept with you again?"

Stack's brows piqued up at that, turning to you too.

"Mary, you knew Stack's been coming up here, I literally told you that—"

"What, y'all got something goin' on too?" She scoffed. It was insane to her how she was the one who introduced you two yet felt completely left out of the loop.

"I mean, shit, if you want," Stack smirked, clearly unfazed by the situation in front of him.

"Shut the hell up," you and Mary both said.

Sighing, you walked towards her. You could see the pout on her face, the crease in her brow that only appeared when she frowned. "You like him more than me or somethin'?" She asked you.

"No. I like you both. I also think you're both irritating as fuck," you spoke honestly, tucking a standing of your hair behind your ear that had fallen out of the ponytail you put it in before they both came.

Stack blew smoke out of his mouth from where he sat, watching you both. You wrapped your arms around Mary's waist, inching your face closer to hers. Her eyes flickered from your lips to your eyes, waiting for you to make the first move.

You broke your gaze away from her face to look at Stack, his eyes focused on you and what you would do next. A smile graced your lips, your attention back on Mary. You leaned in, feeling the softness of her lips welcome yours.

"Damn," Stack mumbled.

Mary kissed you back, a small moan escaping her lips as she did. When you parted your lips, her tongue didn't waste any time, exploring your mouth as you moaned shamelessly.

You broke away from the kiss, leaning your head on Mary's shoulder as you looked at Stack. "There are more ways to solve this lil' issue, you know."

Stack smiled, putting his blunt in the ashtray. You pulled away from Mary, pushing her gently towards Stack, who took her into his arms. He kissed her, slow and gentle.

"You know I love you," he mumbled against her lips.

"Yeah. I love you too," Mary sighed, glad she was finally being shown some attention by him.

They turned to look at you, Mary patting the spot on the other side of Stack. "And we love you too. Guess we'll just have to learn to share," she smirked.

You sat down, and it wasn't long before Stack's lips were on yours, his hand around your throat, pulling you closer. Mary watched on, her lip tucked in between her teeth. Why didn't she ever think of this before.

She kissed down Stack's neck, nipping and biting, letting up when you started to kiss her. Her hands grabbed at your top, breaking away from the messy kiss to pull it off of you. Stack took his top off too, his toned body on display. You almost drooled, you couldn't believe this was actually happening, or rather, that it was happening so late.

Stack leaned towards your neck, sucking and kissing wherever he could as you groaned, tilting your head back slightly. Mary was still on you, kissing you from cheek to cheek before she was back on your lips. You were overwhelmed a little, but the good type of overwhelmed.

Stack pulled away, his eyes lustful and full of want as he looked at both his girls. "I think we should take this upstairs."

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[angelsknifeprty]

couldn't fight to save your life (but you look so cool) ❀˖꩜˚࿔ - e.w

loser!ellie x popular!reader | 3.2k words

a/n: guess who rewatched bottoms for the billionth time (me. it was me.) :p loser!ellie won't leave my mind and neither will crush by ethel cain so here's somethin' random i came up with, enjoy!

cw: cursing, bullying, a little violence, mentions of blood, two idiots that are obviously infatuated with each other, mentions of reader wanting to punch ellie for being too cute cuz they’re strange like that

˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖

you're an angel, she's sure of it.

ellie watches with glassy eyes, practically in a trance, as you absentmindedly play with your hair. she drinks in the way your perfectly curated outfit adorns your body; you always look flawless to her. you were laughing at something your friend had said, ellie's ears straining to hear the saccharine sound over the chatter buzzing. she just heard it, and god, what she would do to have a recording of it to listen to over and over again.

the two of you weren't friends by any means, but she knew you.

most of ellie's time was spent staring at you during class or when you passed her in the hallway. her eyes would shy away every time they met yours, the intensity of your gaze leaving her a flustered mess within seconds. 

when she wasn't looking at you, her head was buried into her journal, pencil dragging fervently across the pages. her entries always had your name embedded somewhere within their sentences. it was like you were all she could think about. when she would draw, the lines and curves always morphed into you, capturing a moment of you daydreaming in class or whatever other snapshot her mind had taken of you that wouldn't stop plaguing her.

she'd listen to your conversations when she was close enough to hear - not to be a creep or anything! but how else was she supposed to learn more about you?

sure, the obvious answer would be to talk to you, but she was a nervous wreck from just seeing you. you'd only had a few brief interactions before, and she swears she almost fainted when you remembered her name when you asked her for a pen once.

while she believed the popularity contest that was high school to be ridiculous, her very low place in the school's hierarchy was a definite set-up for failure, she was certain. ellie kept to herself, mostly, aside from her few friends, but that didn't stop her from becoming the target of relentless bullying from some of the other students, the ones at the top of the food chain.

you were well-liked amongst your peers, but your popularity never merged you with those people. you were known for your sunny disposition, whereas they tormented their way to the top.

you'd seen it happen a couple of times, the sound of their jeering always catching your attention, especially when you heard them say ellie's name in that disgusting tone that made your heart ache for her. in fact, it's what snapped you out of your current conversation as an irritated, "what the fuck, williams?" sounds throughout the hallway.

in her lovestruck daze, ellie hadn't been looking where she was walking, which conveniently caused her to bump into one of them - a girl you didn't care much for, quinn was it? all you knew for sure was that she was trouble.

ellie winced and scrunched her face at the sound of her voice, internally cursing at herself because now she had to deal with her. she opened her eyes to see that everyone was looking, including you.

"shit, sorry. wasn't looking where i was going, won't happen again," ellie's tone is curt, trying to move past her and continue with her day before things got worse.

but of course, she wouldn't get let off the hook that easily; that was just her luck.

"where do you think you're going?" she probes, moving to block ellie's path. ellie has to restrain herself from rolling her eyes in her face, not wanting to escalate things if she could help it. how naive of her to think that nothing could ever be easy for her.

"c'mon, dude. i apologised. can we move on and-"

suddenly, it feels like the wind was knocked from ellie's lungs, and she's… falling?

a little stunned, she looks up from her newfound place on the floor after quinn has shoved her to the ground. all because of an accident that could have been easily brushed off and forgotten about. such a dumb fucking reason, and yet it has ellie seething.

"you should watch where you're going, williams. always lurking where nobody wants you to be." quinn spits, taunting ellie to get a rise out of her. 

it was likely that ellie's indifferent reactions to quinn's bullying irritated her, unable to fathom why ellie wouldn't buckle and submit like every other one of her unfortunate victims.

while the teasing and mean remarks were an unfortunate constant in her life, this never mellowed ellie. she was always quick-witted, her slight temper always having her ready to argue back and stand up for herself, and this time was no different.

ellie rises from the ground and delivers an equally hard shove, an irate, "what the fuck is your problem?" leaving her chapped lips. being the drama-obsessed hive mind that high schoolers were, it didn't take long for people to start crowding around the two once things intensified.

you had been watching the whole thing from afar before a wall of people began forming, not realising it'd evolve into this. you heard a pained groan rip from ellie's throat after what you presumed was the first punch being thrown. now you are only able to listen to the commotion but not see the situation, making your anxiety skyrocket. 

you liked to keep an attentive eye on ellie from a distance despite your paths rarely crossing, feeling some strange obligation to watch over her. you knew quinn and her posse of assholes always gave ellie a hard time, but she seemed to handle herself just fine, sometimes hearing one of her clever comebacks that made you giggle.

while the brawl entertained everyone else, you grew increasingly agitated. you were never one for drama and kept a relatively peaceful circle of friends, but the idea of just standing and doing nothing felt like a personal failure.

so, before you knew it, you were excusing yourself from your friends and pushing your way through the crowd to get to ellie.

once you breached the crowd, you found yourself in the eye of the storm, your eyes wide. after a while of their struggle against each other, quinn was now situated on top of ellie as she delivered a particularly hard punch to ellie's cheek. the wounded groan she let out was what urged you out of your frozen shock, rushing towards the tangle of violent limbs, grabbing quinn's shoulder and pulling her off of ellie with a hard tug.

"get the hell away from her!" you yell, trying hard to ignore the disappointed groans of the audience as you interrupt their entertainment. "assholes." you thought to yourself. 

wiping the blood from her nose, the sight of the trickling crimson more satisfying to you than it should be, quinn looks at you confused, clearly not expecting you of all people to come to ellie's rescue.

"the fuck are you doing?" she sneers, looking between you and ellie, who is still on the floor, propping herself up on her elbows with the nastiest glare you'd ever seen on her face. "don't tell me you actually give a shit about this loser-"

"back off, don't touch her," you snarled, pushing past her to kneel beside ellie on the ground.

you had this untouchable air about you, something that was a little lost on you but not to quinn. she knew you had people to back you up, her targets usually being the loner outcast types, being the coward she is. the same ruthlessness ellie received was not given to you, an irritated scoff being all you heard from quinn. she was the least of your worries right now.

"are you okay?" you ask, a little breathless from the adrenaline of putting yourself in the middle of a fight in front of an audience. your brows furrowed at how quickly deep purples and blues had already started blooming around ellie's eye and her freckled cheek. 

ellie looked at you blankly, her mouth opening and closing like a fish, and she tried desperately to find any words to say to you. how was she supposed to think straight? the rush from the fight and now having her crush come to her aid rendered her speechless. her lack of answer only worried you more, pinning her silence on being stunned from the fight still.

"ellie, i need you to answer-"

you were cut off by the sound of the principal pushing his way through the mass, his stern voice demanding that the two battered girls follow him to his office.

you watch doe-eyed and nervous as ellie pushes herself off the floor with a wince, looking at you with eyes that have so much to say yet a mouth that cannot quite verbalise it. but she couldn't stay, so without a word, she reluctantly trudged behind the principal with her head hanging low, utterly fed up, and man, that one punch hurt.

˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖

you peered around the corner to the row of chairs lined up outside the principal's office, eyes fixated on ellie's slumped figure occupying one of them. you had been watching for at least a minute or two now despite there being the opportunity to approach her like any other normal person. but this was comfortable for you, familiar. if ellie believed she was the only person with a staring problem, and she did, then she was painfully wrong.

it felt routine for you to watch her like this from afar, a look in your eyes brimming with so much more than just innocent curiosity.

it was like you could sense her presence in a room, your gaze always finding her so easily amongst the hoard of other students. your eyes would rake up and down as you shamelessly drank her in, that camo jacket of hers that she wore like a safety blanket hanging loosely from her frame. she wore it infuriatingly well, paired with her unbothered demeanour that looked oh so good on her. a witty remark was always ready on the tip of her tongue when one of her tormentors dared to speak to her, her scarred brow furrowing into a scowl that made your stomach flutter.

you knew what cuteness aggression was, but that surely couldn't be what you felt now. but it made you mad how badly ellie affected you even from a distance, what was once just a silly hallway crush twisting into a near-violent obsession. you spied her fresh bruises, almost filling you with a little satisfaction. serves her right, your voice whispers quietly inside your head, as if you were scared someone could hear you. you almost wished you had been the one to give her the bruises only so you could plant two gentle kisses over the skin to soothe the sting afterwards. the deep plum colour blooming across her skin still somehow made her look pretty, and you had to take a moment to ask yourself if that was a fucked up thing to think. probably. 

suddenly becoming aware of how much of a creep you must look, lingering but not daring to approach, you decided to finally go check on her. it wouldn't feel right for you not to ensure she was okay.

ellie wonders how hard she was punched when she looks up to see you, a concerned and bashful smile on your face.

"hey, ellie. i just wanted to check on you after what happened with… y'know." 

ellie spends a moment in silence as she processes what's happening. you're fidgeting with your hands, rocking back and forth on your heels like you don't know what to do with yourself. she could have scoffed in bewilderment, as if you had any right to look so nervous standing in front of her, effortlessly beautiful and so sweet.

"ellie?" you repeat her name again, softer this time. ellie almost wants to stay silent just to hear you repeat it. but she needs to respond, fuck think, think, think-

"o-oh, hey. i uh- yeah, i'm okay. nothing i can't handle," ellie finally manages to get out. you nod in acknowledgement, tearing your eyes away for just a moment to compose yourself.

"do you mind if i sit?" you gesture to the empty chair beside her, which has her perking up almost immediately. ellie nods, a simple "sure," leaving her lips in a tone that sounded far more curt than nonchalant like she intended. really, she was just trying to focus on not bursting at the seams. you were so close to her, and now she had to keep her cool.

"thanks for stepping in earlier and pulling her off of me. you didn't have to do that."

"i wasn't just gonna stand there and watch it happen," you say it like that wasn't what anyone else would have done, what they did do. all more than happy to watch her get her ass beat just to spice up what otherwise would have been another boring school day.

"i'd say i held my own somewhat well," ellie quips, her tone a little lighter than before. you giggle softly, deciding not to remind her that she had been floored by the time you got to her. she had definitely lost the fight, and in her defence, that girl was notoriously scrappy, but fortunately for you, she made losing look so good. holding herself up on her elbows, the meanest look on her dishevelled face as she stared up at the girl with an unwavering glare.

"and what did the principal have to say about that?" you press for details, head tilting curiously. you looked like a puppy, sitting all cute and pretty next to her. ellie swore you were trying to kill her; such a simple movement made her heart rate spike. 

"got a firm slap on the wrist and the usual 'you're better than this' speech." you hum in acknowledgement, a breath of a laugh exhaling through your nose.

"well, for what it's worth, i think you gave her what she deserved." your statement caught her off guard, and she was not expecting you to condone any of what went down earlier.

"oh, you think?"

"oh definitely. the only time i see her is when she's making some poor person's life hell. i'm glad to see her get a taste of her own medicine."

ellie couldn't argue with that, shrugging in agreement as she tried to keep the pride bubbling up in her chest at bay.

"i am a little surprised, though. i wasn't expecting you to entertain a fight with her." this makes ellie raise her eyebrow inquisitively. did she not look tough enough to be in a fight or something? she knew she was nerdy, but surely she didn't look utterly defenceless, right?

"how come?" she questions, leaning back more comfortably in her chair, legs settling into her usual manspread that had you reeling just from seeing it from a distance, never mind being right next to her. your eyes darted around the hallway, desperately trying to focus on the conversation.

"well, y'know, i see you around, and you're usually so…" you trail off as you wave your hands in soft, fluid motions, whimsical and a little silly as you try to explain the softer side of her you had always noticed in what looked like some strange interpretive dance. 

"but back there, you were all like-" you're swinging your arms a little more frantically now, a poor recreation of some generic karate moves. you would feel like a total idiot and you very much do if it wasn't for the cheesy smile spreading across ellie's face at the sight of you.

"yeah?" she feels like she's getting lightheaded from how giddy she feels.

"yeah." you parrot back sheepishly, twiddling your thumbs to ground yourself. so cute.  

all ellie seemed to be good for was being riled up by the other students, so hearing that you had acknowledged her enough to make up your own mind about her made her feel like she was short circuiting. she was quickly snapped out of her temporary high when she felt a sharp sting on the side of her face, her sappy smile irritating her bruises.

"shit, are you okay?" you ask worriedly as she tries to brush it off with a wave of her hand.

"yeah yeah, i'm fine; this could've been way worse. you don't need to worry." her thoughts didn't quite match up with her words, though, silently begging that you'd keep doting on her. she was basking in having your undivided attention.

"ellie, these bruises are pretty big, i'm allowed to worry after i watched you get your ass handed to you," you ramble, ignoring her dismissal. 

"hey! she didn't have that much of an upper hand against me-"

you don’t reply, your hand absentmindedly reaches out to cup her jaw, being careful not to press into where it hurts as you inspect her injuries.

"has anybody checked over you yet?"

she feels like she's on fire, palms sweaty as she silently lets you examine her. she barely managed to respond to your question with a simple "no." she swore she could feel everywhere your eyes landed on her face, and fuck, your hand is so warm. the mess of a girl was surprised that steam wasn't radiating from where your skin met. 

as you give her face a final once over, you catch that frazzled deer-in-headlights look in her eyes and realise what you were doing, immediately removing your hand. if ellie wasn't frozen in place, she would have chased your touch, already missing the feeling of you on her skin.

"s-sorry, i just- i didn't mean to touch you out of nowhere. i was checking for my own peace of mind and got carried away-"

"no!" ellie interrupts a little louder than she meant to. "i mean, it's totally fine," her voice is shaking, "thank you for caring. you don't even really know me, and you're doing all this for me, so thank you."

her abruptness halts your apologetic rambling. you look at her wide-eyed for a moment before letting a soft little smile tug up the corner of your lips. if only she knew just how well you'd come to know her from all of your stolen glances, committing her to memory like she would disappear.

"don't mention it."

silence falls over you, both fidgeting shyly as you struggle to find something else to say. but that was okay. the giddy smiles you were both biting back said everything they needed to.

"i should probably get back to class, i've been holding this hall pass hostage for a while so i could come to check on you." you huff out a little disappointed sigh, reluctant to leave now that you'd finally been able to talk to ellie after so long spent longingly glancing in her direction.

"oh right, sorry. don't let me keep you, like i said i'm fine, really." ellie felt herself deflate a little now that she knew you had to go. the word pathetic came to mind when she realised how silly she must have looked, sulking like a kicked dog.

"i'm glad you're okay, ellie. i'll um… i'll see you around, yeah?" you couldn't help the hopefulness seeping through your words, and ellie noticed. the slight lilt in your sweet voice, your awkward shifting as you stood up, ready to leave.

"yeah, i'll see you around." ellie smiled up at you, ignoring the sharp twinge where her bruises were. maybe she should get beat up more often if it meant getting your attention.

[anto-pops]

Restraint - Sebastian Sallow x Female!Reader

Summary: Sebastian wasn’t sure whether or not he was grateful for your lack of attention. The clueless facade you maintained where he was concerned made him equal parts angry and confused. Didn’t you know he was a man? An eighteen year old man who catered to your every whim? A legal adult whose room you spent an unorthodox amount of time in? Anyone with eyes could see that Sebastian was into you, and yet you never gave him any sign that you were aware of his feelings for you. 

It was mind-boggling. It was frustrating. He was at the end of his rope.

Word Count: 7.7k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, masturbation, intense pining, possessive behavior, cunnilingus, oral fixation/oral smut, explicit sexual content

This random Monday oneshot is also on Ao3

Sebastian had never been one for subtlety. In Ominis’ own words, he wore his heart on his sleeve and let his emotions fuel his tone, but there was little he could do to remedy that fact. Tiptoeing around a subject or beating around the bush never failed to frustrate him. He preferred it when people said what they meant and meant what they said. Being straight up and getting to the point spared him a headache and prevented him from losing his temper, which was the best case scenario for everyone. 

Sebastian said what he wanted, did what he wanted, and never wasted his breath apologizing for his actions when he knew deep down that he wouldn’t mean it anyways. Placations were pointless. 

Unless, however, you were involved. 

Everything about you had driven Sebastian mad for the last three years. From the moment you had arrived at Hogwarts, he had been completely and utterly entranced by you. Then you’d gone and broken his dueling win streak in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and the infatuation had turned into obsession. You were the one person he wouldn’t– no, couldn’t be authentic with. How could he be? You made him stupid. He could barely think straight around you, his mind imbuing him with the sorts of thoughts that would land him in an asylum if he voiced them. If he didn’t filter himself around you, it wouldn’t end well. Not for him, and certainly not for you. 

He didn’t know if your obliviousness to his behavior was all for show or if it was completely genuine, but he didn’t want to risk finding out. 

“Sebastian?” Your voice made him go rigid, the tired rasp to your voice sending his body’s entire blood supply straight between his legs.  

“What?” 

“Do you want to work on that History of Magic report with me later? I fell asleep and missed half of the lecture.” 

He watched you over the rim of his cup, the steam from the hot chocolate wafting into the air and obscuring his view of you slightly. Of course he knew you’d fallen asleep– he had been watching your head bob up and down for twenty minutes in class before the fatigue had won out and you’d slumped over your desk. Professor Binns was always too preoccupied with floating listlessly around the chalkboard to take notice, which was why Sebastian hadn’t bothered to wake you up. If you were tired, you needed to rest. 

More to the point, Sebastian enjoyed watching you when you weren’t looking. What better opportunity was there to do so than while you slept? 

Your chin was daintily perched in your palm as you pushed around the food on your plate, waiting patiently for his answer. With your tired smile and half-lidded eyes, he was convinced you were on the verge of passing out again. How late had you stayed up last night? What had you been doing instead of sleeping? Had you gone out with your friends– or Merlin forbid– someone else?

He banished the train of thought from his mind, lest he piss himself off with the possible answers. “Sure. Library?” 

“Hm… can we go to your room? If I fall asleep again, at least it’ll be in an actual bed.” 

The mental image of you sprawled out on his bed did nothing to alleviate the growing bulge straining against his trousers. His jaw hardened as he breathed in deeply through his nose, then exhaled through his pursed lips. “Yeah, fine. I won’t do the work for you if you fall asleep, though.” 

Your tired expression lit up as you beamed at him, and his stomach churned violently. It was pathetic how smitten he was. He knew he would agree to come to class in a ballgown if it meant getting to glimpse that dazzling grin of yours. 

The smile he gave you was mildly strained, but you didn’t notice. Thankfully. 

Sebastian spent the rest of lunch holding his breath and thinking of anything that fit the criteria of gross and off-putting. He had to. It wasn’t like he could rub one out in the middle of the Great Hall to get rid of the half-mast hidden behind his zipper. He couldn’t even excuse himself to go back to his dorm to take care of it in private– he’d be showcasing the full extent of the problem between his legs to the entire student body if he did. You were none the wiser to his internal turmoil as you rambled on innocently about one thing or another, but he could barely hear you over the rush of blood in his ears. 

He checked the giant grandfather clock against the wall. Twenty more minutes for lunch. With any luck, it would prove to be enough time for his cock to calm the fuck down. 

—

You were always late. 

Sebastian had grown accustomed to your unyielding habit of showing up places behind schedule. In the beginning it had bothered him, if only because he was the exact opposite. He had to be early to everything on his agenda, otherwise he was panicky and on edge. But your reliable tendency to arrive after an agreed upon time was exactly what he needed right now, because if he didn’t kill the boner he’d been sporting since lunch, he was going to lose his fucking mind. 

The dorm was empty since all of his roommates were either in the Library or in Hogsmeade, but Sebastian still tried to stifle his noises. Choked moans of your name were bitten back and swallowed as his fist furiously worked the aching length of his cock. There was nothing sensual or graceful about how he moved his hand– it was all frantic. Berserk, even. His fingers were pressed roughly against his shaft, his wrist twisting rapidly over the head as he tried to practically yank his orgasm out. Any other day he would be ashamed of how pitiful he had to look, but not now. 

Right now, he was desperate. He had to stave off his cravings for you as a precaution before you showed up, otherwise he knew he’d be done for. 

A quick succession of three knocks sounded from the door, halting his movements. Then Sebastian’s blood ran cold when he heard your voice from the other side. “Sebastian? Are you here?” 

The stinging slap from his hand clamping over his mouth worked to snap his mind out of its lust-induced haze. Squeezing the base of his cock with bruising strength, Sebastian let his head fall back against the headboard of his bed as tears of frustration and pent-up pleasure filled his eyes. He blinked them back stubbornly, digging his teeth into his thumb as his entire body seized with agitation. 

Figures that this was the one time you were actually early. 

You started knocking again, your knuckles rapping against the wood of the door faster, your impatience permeating the air on your side of the wall until it was too much to bear. 

Sebastian snarled as he hastily stuffed himself back in his pants, at a complete loss for how to proceed. He was hardly in a state to be around you right now. All of this had been so he wouldn’t be a fraught mess around you, but now things were ten times worse. His legs were tense as he swung them over the side of the bed and made his way to the door, taking an extra moment to readjust his painfully hard cock in his pants before undoing the lock and wrenching the door open. 

“Finally,” you huffed angrily, your narrowed eyes widening when they took note of his flushed, sweaty face. “Merlin, what’s wrong with you? Are you sick?” 

“You’re early,” Sebastian replied flatly, ignoring your question completely. 

“Yeah, Garreth offered to help Poppy out at the stalls for me so I came over sooner. What’s the matter with you?” 

“I–” Shit, what did he say? His brain scrambled for an excuse, his red cheeks and disheveled clothing leaving little room for interpretation. Unless… “I was working out. Getting ready for Quidditch next week. I thought I’d have more time to finish up and shower, but now you’re here.” 

“Oh! I’m sorry, I forgot about Quidditch. Figures Imelda is making you prepare early,” you waved your hand over your shoulder in the general direction of the bathroom. “Go ahead, don’t stop on my account. I can start reviewing what notes I did manage to take today.” 

Sebastian wasn’t sure whether or not he was grateful for your lack of attention. The clueless facade you maintained where he was concerned made him equal parts angry and confused. Didn’t you know he was a man? An eighteen year old man who catered to your every whim? A legal adult whose room you spent an unorthodox amount of time in? Anyone with eyes could see that Sebastian was into you, and yet you never gave him any sign that you were aware of his feelings for you. 

It was mind-boggling. It was frustrating. He was at the end of his rope.

And he still needed to shower. 

“Give me ten minutes,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to you. You nodded and stepped inside his room, watching as he stiffly grabbed a change of clothes and a towel before striding past you without a second glance. 

If the universe held any affection for him at all, a cold shower would be enough to loosen the tight knot in the pit of his stomach. 

—

Unsurprisingly, Sebastian’s excursion to the bathroom was unsatisfying. The shower head ought to count itself lucky that it was still mounted to the wall and not lying in a broken, dented heap on the floor. The icy spray of water had eased the problem between his thighs, but it had also snapped him out of his stupor, sharpened his senses, and left him with the grating realization that nothing would help him quench his thirst for you. 

After donning a pair of pajama pants and an old Quidditch jersey that had definitely seen better days, Sebastian slowly– painfully– made his way back to you. He dimly towel dried his hair as he shuffled towards the door, giving himself as much time as possible to steel his nerves and barricade his lustful thoughts behind a mental, brick shield. A chill snaked its way up his spine as the cold air of the Slytherin dorms kissed his damp skin, but he barely paid it any mind. 

He would rather be cold than embarrassingly hard. 

When Sebastian pushed the door open, he found you laid out on his bed on your stomach, a textbook and a pile of notes situated before you. You’d shed your robes and were clad in your school uniform, the trousers you’d stubbornly kept since last year acting like a second skin. The passage of time was ultimately Sebastian’s greatest enemy, because with every month that went by, you changed. Physically changed. You were taller, curvier, and more womanly than ever. Instead of replacing your uniform with one that fit, you held on to ones from years past that had no business living in your drawers. 

That perky ass of yours was going to be his undoing. Why did that outdated pair of trousers have to hug your hips so nicely? 

He averted his gaze to the wall, curling his hands into tight fists that left violent red crescents on his palms. Get a grip, he thought to himself. 

“You certainly made yourself comfortable,” he finally managed to bite out, his voice strained and pitched higher than normal. Idiot. 

You glanced over at him with what he could only describe as a doe-eyed look. Those plush lips of yours were parted in mild surprise before they curled up into an easy smile, and your feet proceeded to kick up in the air playfully. “Your bed is much more comfortable than the one in my dorm.”

Deep breaths. Deep fucking breaths, Sebastian. 

“Is that why you’ve practically moved in here? Not sleeping well in your own room?” 

“Among other things,” you admitted around a sigh. “Don’t pretend like you don’t live for my company though. What else would you do if I wasn’t around to pester you?” 

“Relax, most likely.” He allowed himself a shit-eating smirk, and he was rewarded by the sound of your indignant gasp. Closing the distance between you both, Sebastian sat down on the edge of the bed, confidently moving so that he was situated against the headboard for the second time today. You shifted around to give him more space, then brazenly draped your legs over his before shoving your notes into his lap. 

His smirk vanished, and it took everything in him not to let out the choked groan that bubbled in his throat in response to the close proximity. “Whatever. You love me, and we both know it,” you huffed tauntingly, your downcast eyes keeping you from seeing the way his adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed thickly. “Now read over this and tell me if I got most of the important material. Then I can start drafting the paper.” 

History of Magic was the one class that never failed to make everyone sleepy, but presently? Working on an assignment like this with you in the wake of his shitty day? Sebastian had never been more awake, and it had everything to do with how pent-up he was. With excruciating restraint, he blocked out the feeling of your legs weighing down on his thighs and picked up the notes. 

It was going to be a long, long evening. 

—

It hadn’t been easy for Sebastian to maintain his composure for an hour straight, and there was even more truth to that fact now. You were still propped up against the bedpost with your notes scattered around you, your legs still tossed lazily over his, only you wouldn’t stop fidgeting. 

Seriously. Sitting still was a foreign concept to you and had been for the last twenty minutes, because your feet wouldn’t quit fucking rubbing together. That wasn’t the direct cause of Sebastian’s frayed composure. It was the fact that your incessant twitching was pulling on the fabric of his pants, drawing the material taught over his groin over and over and over. It wasn’t an unusual thing for you to get so restless after studying for so long without a break, but considering that his impromptu masturbation session had been cut short earlier, he was loads more anxious than usual.  

He didn’t mean to be so aggressive when he slapped his hands over your knees, stilling your absentminded writhing with a scowl. Later on he would apologize– and mean it– for being so harsh. But if he didn’t put a stop to your shifting, he was going to have bigger problems that superseded you being upset with him. 

“Hey!” Your head snapped up from your notes, your grip on your quill turning white knuckled as you openly glared at him. “That hurts. Let go–”

“Stop moving so much, you’re driving me insane!” He fired back defensively, hating how gruff his voice sounded. “Is it too much for you to sit still?” 

Your brows rose up your forehead in complete bewilderment, your expression warring between offended and shocked. “You could just ask next time instead of trying to dislocate my kneecaps. Merlin…” Sebastian didn’t know whether to be relieved or disgruntled when you attempted to withdraw your legs from his lap. Either way, he refused to let you move the limbs, and your loud sigh was laced with blatant vexation. “Let go, I’ll just move–” 

“No. I don’t want you to move, I just want you to relax.”

Your wary gaze pierced right through him, and if he wasn’t already coiled tighter than a fucking spring, he would stiffen at the way your lower lip jutted out into a pout. You obeyed, though, your legs staying mercifully still as you went back to reading over the notes he had added to, and Sebastian took the opportunity to watch you through his lashes while he pretended to look down at the papers in his own lap. 

Mussed strands of hair fell into your face, a byproduct of how frequently you’d run your fingers through them. Following summer break, you had returned to school with a light smattering of freckles dusting your nose. They couldn’t hold a candle to the ones that covered damn near every inch of him, but they were still pretty. Cute, even. The dark rings under your eyes would have looked sickly on anyone else, but in your case, they made the whites of your eyes all the more vibrant. You looked like a doll. 

A scrumptious, effortlessly beautiful doll. 

He watched as you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, scratching out something you had written before hastily replacing the sentence with another. When the bit of skin was released, it was left red, swollen, and far more tempting than it had any right to be. 

He wanted to kiss you. He wanted to bite at your lips, your neck, your breasts, and leave imprints of his teeth all over you. He wanted to mark every inch of your body and lay his claim in some primal, unseemly way that went against every lick of gentlemanliness he had been taught. He wanted to toss his inhibitions to the wind and indulge in the taste of you– something he had wondered about for a long, long time. Were you as sweet as he imagined? Would your thighs work to crush his head if he found himself situated between them, lapping up your essence like a man starved? 

When your head popped up to glance at him again, Sebastian was unprepared for it. He was still staring– no, ogling you– with his eyes narrowed and his chest rising and falling rapidly. His fantasies had gotten the better of him and had left him a panting, lust-drunk mess. Another cold shower couldn’t even begin to lessen the painful throbbing of his cock. All of his hard work at keeping calm and in control had just flown out the fucking window, and he could only thank the stars in the sky that he had a pile of notes in his lap, concealing the evidence of his innermost thoughts. 

“Are you sure you’re not coming down with something?” You asked him, abandoning your quill against the mattress so you could sit forward and scan his very flushed, very tense face. 

“I’m fine,” he looked away, trying and failing to wave you off. 

Stubborn as ever, you didn’t back down. “You’re all red. Do you have a fever?” 

“Seriously– I’m fine. Don’t worry about it, just finish your report already.” 

The force of his heart hammering against his sternum left him worried that it was about to jump out of his ribcage. Your hand was suddenly closing in on him, concern etched across your features as you shifted your legs to move closer into his space. The tantalizing smell of your perfume oil invaded his senses, filling his nose and setting his blood alight in his veins. There was something to be said about how primal humans could be when it came to scents. Yours had always been incredibly intoxicating, and Sebastian was all too willing to breathe it in deeply as the back of your hand made contact with his forehead. 

He was so fucked. 

“You’re burning up. Maybe we should call it a night… you probably need to sleep it off.” 

“I don’t need sleep,” he insisted with a frown, reaching up to pry your hand away from his face. “I already told you; I feel fine. Just drop it.” 

That spark of rebellion you reserved for your most loathed enemies came to life behind your irises, burning brighter than the sun as you narrowed your eyes at him and tried to plant your hand against his forehead again. Sebastian held you back with little effort, your arm shaking with the force you exerted in your attempts. “You’ve been weird all day– if you’re sick, you need to be checked out. So either you tell me what’s wrong with you, or I’ll drag you to the Hospital Wing myself.” 

That dark, animalistic part of him that conjured up the most obscene of daydreams silently laughed at your threat. Drag him? You couldn’t move him if you tried. He was infinitely stronger than you– broader, faster, tougher. You were the prey his inner predator yearned to claim. It was your fault that he was so out of it today, and yet you had the gall to order him around? 

With the utmost difficulty, Sebastian checked himself in record time, reining in the bestial side of him as his grip on your wrist tightened. “For the last time, nothing is wrong. If you can’t accept that, then leave. There’s the door. You have your notes– go finish your report in your own room.” 

You scoffed and strained in his hold, realizing that your attempts at moving your hand forward were fruitless. Then, faster than Sebastian could process, you threw your other arm out– deciding that if he was going to hold back your left hand, your right could pick up where the other had left off. He instinctively jerked you sideways to throw you off balance, which sent you careening forward against his chest. A guttural, almost pained groan ripped from his throat when your palm pressed directly against the throbbing bulge in his pants, your efforts to catch yourself effectively giving him away. 

The jig was up. Your hand was right on his cock, the notes in his lap crinkling loudly as your fingers flexed in alarm. His eyes, which had squeezed shut in response to the abrupt contact, cracked open to find you blinking up at him blearily. “S-Sebastian?” 

“Stop. Just don’t,” he grit through his teeth, his molars clenching together so roughly that he was certain his jaw would lock. 

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t– I shouldn’t have–” you tried to backpedal away from him to remove yourself from his personal space, but you only succeeded in applying more pressure to his groin. A choked whimper escaped his lips, the sound forming too quickly for him to stifle it and too loudly for you to have missed it. 

Fuck. 

Sebastian blindly yanked you forward so the brunt of your weight was pressed against his chest. His arm wrapped around your waist to prevent you from escalating the situation further, and the sigh of relief that slipped through his teeth when you moved your hand away from his cock was pathetic. He was pathetic. 

He was glad that you couldn’t see his face when he desperately whispered, “Don’t– don’t fucking move. Please, just… give me a minute.” 

That was all he needed. A moment of reprieve. He needed sixty, uninterrupted seconds to focus on his breathing– to imagine a Dugbog in a swimsuit, or Madame Scribbner in lingerie. He needed to cycle through the things that never failed to kill his libido, and he could only do that if you let him. 

You didn’t. Fuck– you didn’t even give him five seconds to open his eyes. Before he knew what was happening, your hand was back on his cock, your fingers digging into the parchment that covered his lap as you fucking squeezed his pulsing length with intention. 

The effect was instantaneous, and the sounds that fell from Sebastian’s lips were ones that would be seared into your brain until the end of time. His brain, too. He had never made such a wretched noise in all his eighteen years of living. 

“Don’t make me throw you off this bed,” he growled slowly, but the high-pitched edge to his voice made it seem like despite his words, he was secretly pleading for it.

The image of himself climbing over you on the hardwood floor, pinning those damnable hands of yours above your head with one hand while the other was knuckle deep in your tight, fluttering cunt flooded his mind, and the brick wall of restraint he had constructed earlier crumbled into dust. He sucked down a shaky breath, his entire body vibrating with need as you gave him yet another testing squeeze, and that was what finally prompted him to seek out your eyes. 

They were glimmering with unrestrained curiosity, something strangely like wonder dancing behind your pupils. “What the hell are you doing?” 

“I don’t know,” you admitted breathlessly, the prettiest flush Sebastian had ever seen spreading across your cheeks as you glanced down to where you gripped him. “I just… is this why you’ve been so out of it today?” 

“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” he rumbled, his mind urging him to shove you away while his body begged him to arch into your touch. “You better stop while you still have the chance.” 

“But…” you trailed off, squeezing him for the third time and jumping when he hissed loudly through his teeth. “This seems pretty bad. Painful, even.” 

If he wasn’t so wound up, he would have laughed. “You don’t even know the half of it.” 

Sebastian was convinced that he was the hardest he had ever been. The dual sensations of your hand on his cock and your shallow breaths fanning across his cheek had him dripping precum, the fluid swiftly soaking through the fabric of his pants and creating a stark wet patch that you noticed immediately. Almost testingly, you swiped your thumb over the spot, sending a bolt of arousal straight through him that left him gasping with need. 

His willpower was shot. It was going to take a fucking miracle to come back from this. You had effectively taken every last bit of Sebastian’s resolve and crushed it all beneath your heel, leaving him trembling and keening as every part of your being invaded his senses and held him hostage. 

“Fuck– please,” he moaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He couldn’t look at you right now– it would be the end of everything if he did. The end of this insanely euphoric moment, the end of his restraint, and maybe even the end of his friendship with you. This was… uncharted territory. He was scared to explore it, but gods, did he want to. “Please, I can’t– I can’t take it…” 

He heard you swallow, your hesitation evident in the way you paused before lifting your hand away from his groin. The wrist he had held apart from you slipped free, his fingers closing over nothing but air, and a wave of disappointment crashed over him. Every inch of skin you pried away left him emptier and emptier, his heart and his dignity deflating with each passing second. His chest felt tight, and he was fully prepared to sit there in agonizing silence while you gathered your things to leave as fast as your legs could take you. 

But then your hands were back– on either side of his face to tilt his head up to yours– and his sharp intake of breath was smothered by your soft, delectable lips pressing against his. 

Bloody hell. 

You weren’t leaving. 

A switch flipped. 

A carnal growl ripped from the back of his throat, and then he had you splayed out on your back with his knee wedged insistently between your thighs. He faintly heard the sound of your notes being scattered across the floor, but your startled gasp transforming into a hapless moan was more important. His lips crashed back into yours with zeal, the mask he had maintained this entire time dissipating like smoke in the wind, and his tongue bullied its way into your mouth, probing and tasting as though he didn’t have enough time to memorize every facet of information he unearthed. 

You tried to match his pace the best you could, nipping at his lips and breathing heavily into his mouth, but your attempts only annoyed Sebastian. He asserted dominance by grabbing your chin between his index finger and thumb, then pried your lips apart with his tongue and conquered your mouth wholly and without subtlety. 

“I need you,” he panted against your face, his fingers digging sharply into your hips. “I need you so bad, darling.”

You could only moan shakily when Sebastian dove back in to latch his lips over your pulse, peppering your neck with wet, sloppy kisses and decorating it with an assortment of love-bites. His teeth left a trail of imprints that his tongue worked to soothe, comforting you like he always had while hopelessly committing the taste of your salty skin to memory. 

Sebastian felt you shudder as he worked his way up the column of your neck to the sensitive area below your ear. He nipped at the warm flesh waiting for him there, and when you whined and shamelessly bared more of yourself to him, he couldn’t stop himself from grinding his clothed cock against your hip. “Please, fuck– let me taste you. I’ll do anything you ask, just spread your legs and let me make you feel good.”

Your breathing hitched, and you tried to turn your head towards him, but he was too busy panting against your neck to meet your flustered stare. “S-Sebastian–” 

“Please, darling. I’m fucking begging here. Let me in. Let me do this.” 

Sebastian sounded drunk, his mind positively swimming with lust. The prospect of getting to see you like this, of getting to touch you, was driving him absolutely insane. His voice was airy and reedy– almost choked as though he couldn’t get the words out fast enough. 

“I– I’ve never done this before,” you stammered softly, your cheeks flushing with humiliation at the revelation. 

Sebastian’s head snapped up, a fire burning behind his eyes as he stared down at you with newfound hunger, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he had to look deranged. “You– no one has ever touched you like this? Never?” 

“I mean, I’ve been kissed before, but not…” you trailed off, suddenly bashful in the face of your inexperience. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

Something buried deep inside of him broke free at that moment– a wild, untamable piece of himself that salivated at the fact that you were a virgin. No one had ever laid with you before. No one had ever glimpsed the intimate, private parts of yourself that were always hidden beneath that damn uniform. He would be the first– he would be your first. It should have been impossible, but the thought alone made him harder, his cock straining and leaking so much precum that he wouldn’t be surprised if it was dripping through the fabric of his pants. 

Rational thinking returned to him then, and he was able to blink back the fog that shrouded his morals. “We can stop,” he croaked, not meaning a fucking word of it. “Fuck– tell me to stop and I’ll leave you alone. We can’t come back from this. Tell me to back off and I will.” 

“I…” uncertainty washed over your pretty features, and much like before, Sebastian’s heart sank into the pit of his stomach. He was so selfish. He was such a self-serving bastard– he didn’t want you to call him off. He wasn’t the religious type in the slightest, but for the first time in his entire life, Sebastian started honest to God praying that you wanted this. That you wanted him. 

He was going to have to make a point to pray more, because after a few tense beats of silence, he heard you shyly murmur, “I don’t want you to stop.” 

Fuck. Thank Merlin. 

There would be time later to be embarrassed about how his body sagged with relief. He was too busy kissing you again to bother with such a trivial emotion right now. Savoring your taste with a deep groan, Sebastian allowed himself a minute to grind against your hip, then moved back so he could begin the laborious process of stripping your too-tight trousers from your legs. It took longer than he would have liked, but once the attire reached the base of your ankles, he was able to rip them off and discard them haphazardly over his shoulder. 

“Need to burn those,” he growled. “They drive me crazy.” 

A brief huff of amusement came from you, and you squeezed your knees together in some feeble attempt to hide yourself from him. “They’re just pants.”

He didn’t have the mental capacity to get into why he had such a potent love-hate relationship with the clothing. Instead of explaining himself, he reached out to pry your legs apart, taking immense satisfaction in the way you squeaked and your entire face turned red. “Let me taste you. I’ve been wanting to for so fucking long– I swear I’ll make you feel good, love.” 

Sebastian was sure that if he opened a dictionary to look up the word ‘disoriented’, there would be a photo of your face printed right next to it. You had never looked at him like that before; flushed, wide-eyed, and with traces of both confusion and arousal shadowing your tight features. Your expression had no right to rile him up the way it did, but he wasn’t interested in hiding his thirst for you. Not anymore. 

“Are you sure?” You asked him, voice quivering. “That– I mean, if it’s gross or anything, don’t feel like you have to.” 

Sebastian scoffed. You had no clue how extensive his fantasies were. As if he could ever be grossed out by you. 

The level of innocence you displayed only spurred him on faster, and he eagerly sat forward to cover your mouth with his again, his fingers deftly undoing the buttons of your blouse so he could wrench it over your shoulders. Even though he was vibrating with barely contained need, he had to allow himself a moment to take in the sight of you completely bare, the staps of your brassiere hanging seductively over the sides of your arms and tightening the knot in the pit of his stomach. Your undergarments had to be as outdated as your trousers, because they were snug, short, and way too sheer to qualify as new. 

He needed to burn those, too. 

Sebastian watched you with predatory intent as he slipped his fingers under the waistband of your unmentionables, letting his nails scratch against your thighs when he began to drag the clothing down your legs. Without your blouse in the way, he was able to see the full extent of your reddening skin, the color more vibrant than the Gryffindor banners that hung in the Great Hall. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, then stilled when the underwear was fully removed. Save for your brassiere, you were completely bare before him, and Sebastian audibly moaned when he looked down to find your folds glistening with moisture already. 

“I’m going to drink up everything you have to give me until there’s nothing left,” he braced his hands on either side of your hips to lower himself onto his stomach, taking care to plant soft, revering kisses against your hip bones. “I know you taste so fucking good. I just know it…” 

Your entire body tensed when you felt Sebastian exhale against your damp center, his eyes fluttering shut as he inhaled your intoxicating scent. Then before you could collect your bearings, he was licking a broad, flat stripe up your slit, collecting as much of your wetness as he possibly could, and the sensation made you jolt. “S-Sebastian–” you gasped, digging your fingers into the rumpled sheets of the bed in a bid to ground yourself. 

“Yeah, say my name,” he urged roughly, his chest swelling with male pride. The sound of his name on your lips had the same effect as a bolt of lightning; it sliced through him to his very core, electric and unbelievably erotic, and he brazenly covered the entirety of your cunt with his mouth, licking and sucking at whatever parts of you he could reach. 

The wetness that covered you was so extensive, it was hard to tell whether it was your own arousal or Sebastian’s saliva to blame. A cacophony of moans and whines tumbled from your throat without restraint, prompting him to dig his nails into your sides as he hauled you closer. He fucked his tongue into you with inhuman vigor, his jaw aching in protest, but he ignored the discomfort and continued to devour every drop of your essence like he would die if he didn’t. 

It was so messy, too. Sebastian could feel the moisture dripping down his chin, but that only inspired him to work harder– his grip on your waist turning so severe that he knew he would find finger shaped bruises there later. Another mark left by him. Another brand proving that you were his. 

“I knew it,” he panted hoarsely, his voice strained and deep as though he’d been screaming before now. “You taste so good, darling– so fucking sweet.”

“I– Sebastian, I–” you covered your face with your hands, the appendages shaking in earnest as your muscles began to tense. “Fuck, I think I–”

He sucked your clit between his lips then, laving his tongue over the swollen bud with so much pressure that your hips bucked against his face. The chuckle he let loose was guttural and dark, and he broke his unwavering concentration to glance up at you. “Are you close? You want to come for me, huh?” 

Sebastian knew you had to be embarrassed, because you were still hiding behind your hands, the heels of your palms digging into your sockets. He could faintly see the row of teeth-shaped marks that lined your neck, but the majority of his hard work from earlier was concealed by your forearms. That wouldn’t do. He reached up and wrenched one of your arms away to reveal your watery stare, the glassy sheen covering your eyes telling him everything he needed to know about how close to the edge you were. 

“Don’t hide from me. I want to see your face when you fall apart on my tongue.” 

“It’s embarrassing,” your voice shook, as did the hand Sebastian held in his own. “I can’t– it feels hot. Like I’m on fire. I can’t even think–” 

“Then don’t,” he interjected immediately, tenderly kissing the insides of your thighs in a way that made your stomach churn. “Don’t think. Just feel. Let me do all the work, and you just sit there and enjoy every second of it.” 

It was a simple enough concept, but you still yelped when he dove back in, the singular hand he kept on your waist pulling you down so he was smothered by your wet, pulsing cunt. Sebastian didn’t waste any time picking up where he’d left off, his eyes burning as your potent scent drove him into a frenzy. He inhaled sharply as his tongue poked and prodded incessantly, its only goal to collect as much of your slick as possible, the ferocity of his movements making you tremble. Your nerves were totally scorched as the heat within your body reached new levels, the pleasure building in your gut nearing a peak that you were almost afraid to fall over. 

“S-Sebastian, I can’t– ah!” Your words transformed into a keening moan when Sebastian sucked your puffy nub into his mouth again. The bedframe shook in time with your own vibrating, your eyes crossing as the symphony of ecstasy he gave to you climbed to its crescendo. Sebastian’s lungs burned from the lack of oxygen he sucked down, but he didn’t care. If he suffocated to death while fused to your sopping wet cunt, he would die a happy man. 

Breaking away from your clit for a brief moment, he hastily murmured, “Come on, love, let go. Use me and let go.” 

He released your arm and tucked his hand somewhere under his chest, your confusion lasting for all of two seconds before you felt his fingers snaking their way inside of you. There was no resistance thanks to the slick gushing from your hole, the wetness saturating his hand and making him groan with desire. Sebastian’s tongue continued to flick and press against your bundle of nerves with reckless abandon, his fingers pumping and curling in and out of you as you deliriously cried out his name. Your walls tightened around his digits, sucking them deeper at the same time your brows furrowed in alarm, and Sebastian knew he had you right where he wanted you. 

“Sebastian– wait, I can’t– I’m going to–” 

His eyes strained as he fixed them on your face, his lips barely parting from your clit as he encouraged you. “Come on, darling, come on my face. Be a good girl and let go– just let go.” 

The praise drove you clean over the edge, the coil in the pit of your stomach finally snapping as his voice and his fingers and his tongue reduced you to a quaking, moaning mess. Sebastian’s desperation for you consumed you, pure rapture washing over your limbs before they fell boneless against the mattress. Stars danced in the corners of your vision, and you heard and felt Sebastian groan against you before his unrelenting grip on your waist went slack. 

You hardly registered him slipping his fingers free from your cunt and climbing over you until his face was right in front of yours. Sebastian took a flurry of mental snapshots of you, tucking each one into the far reaches of his mind and vowing to himself that he would never forget the fucked-out expression you bore. He made a point to suck the remnants of your pleasure from his digits while maintaining eye contact, and you whimpered breathlessly at the sight. 

“You were so good for me,” Sebastian cooed as he gathered you up in his arms. He moved so his back was nestled against the pillows before repositioning you so your head was tucked against his shoulder. Soothingly, he carded his fingers through your hair as he asked, “Are you okay?” 

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine,” you managed between deep, shuddering breaths. “What about you?” 

“More than okay. Don’t you worry about me.” 

“But…” your eyes flicked down at the same time he tried to cover the blossoming wet patch on his pajama pants. “I thought you didn’t–”

Almost sheepishly, he admitted, “I did. Trust me, that did more for me than you could possibly imagine. I’m sorry for being so aggressive. And for being such a prick today. I just… it’s been hard to rein it in around you recently.” 

He felt your chin dig into the side of his pec as you glanced up at him, the virtuous, doe-eyed look you fixed him with threatening to undo him all over again. “Rein what in?” 

“You can’t honestly tell me you don’t realize the effect you have on me, right?” He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, squeezing his eyes shut as he dredged up the very thoughts that had been hounding him for years. “I’m hopeless where you’re concerned. I get stupid. I act like a daft, brainless idiot, and you just strut about without a clue. I thought I’d finally gotten the hang of keeping that under control, but…” 

“Apparently not,” you helpfully supplied, and Sebastian grunted confirmingly. Those blasted trousers of yours had nullified the remnants of his restraint. So had your eyes. And your hands and your voice. All of you was to blame, really. Like he’d said from the very beginning; he was hopeless where you were concerned. 

“Anyway, thank you for… well, that.” 

“Please don’t thank me,” your face pinched, your body going rigid. “Then it will feel transactional, and I don’t want that.” 

Fair point. “What do you want, then?” 

That rosy flush reappeared against your cheeks, and Sebastian had to beat back the smile that threatened to split his face in the wake of your obvious shyness. “I– well… is there anything I can do for you?” 

Yes. No. Maybe? Sebastian’s laugh was humorless, mostly because there wasn’t anything funny about how his cock twitched in interest at the offer. “I don’t think we need to venture down that path right now. Especially since you’ve already given up so much tonight. I honestly feel kind of bad that your first experience was me jumping your bones…” 

“But what if that’s what I want?” His heart leapt up into his throat so fast that he nearly choked. The kind of uncertainty that went hand in hand with inexperience was written all over your face, but the stubborn set to your jaw told Sebastian that you were serious. Was he dreaming? Maybe he had passed out in the bathroom and this was all a very lovely, very cruel figment of his imagination. You pressed on, “Maybe I want to walk down that path with you. There’s no one else I trust as much as you, so… what would be the harm?” 

This time, Sebastian’s chuckle was genuine. He blinked rapidly, sucking in a deep breath in the hopes that it would settle his nerves and calm his racing blood. It didn’t work. “In that case, there’s plenty you could do for me, darling. I still think we should save it for next time, though.” 

You appeared to chew the inside of your cheek, your brows furrowing as you contemplated something that interested Sebastian to no end. Then, before he could process what you were doing, the hand that had been splayed against his chest inched down tauntingly, your nails dragging lightly across his skin. His breathing hitched, and then it stopped entirely when you gripped him through his pants. Much like he’d expected, the conversation had roused his cock back to life, and he was achingly hard in your hand. 

“I want ‘next time’ to be right now,” you declared stubbornly, pulling a hiss from him when your fingers rubbed over the sensitive head of his length. “I’m a little curious about this. You recovered pretty fast, but if you’re too tired…”

The wicked gleam in your eyes conveyed quite clearly that you knew exactly what you were doing. Where had the bashful innocence gone? Sebastian had blinked and suddenly it was like he was staring at a different woman, the challenge in your voice leaving him with one daunting realization. 

Either he had created a monster, or there had always been one lurking beneath the surface. 

His cock twitched again, and Sebastian knew that he was so, so fucked. 

[studioeisa]

first love/late spring 🌸 wonwoo x reader.

humans have four lives. a life of planting seeds, a life of watering seeds, a life of harvesting, and a life of enjoying those harvests.

🌸 pairing. first love!wonwoo x reader. 🌸 word count. 2.5k. 🌸 genres. alternate universe: non-idol, romance, friendship. 🌸 includes. first love/s, feelings realization/denial, reincarnation. prose-heavy. synopsis from goblin: the great and lonely god. title from mitski’s song of the same name. inspired by this wonwoo post i made way back when. 🌸 notes. this was my planned enlistment fic, but it took me a while to polish. much thanks to my dearest, @chugging-antiseptic-dye, for beta-ing and assisting with the final line. this goes out to @gotta-winwin, who i’m fairly sure i would find and adore in all my lives. my masterlist

Every morning at 7:42 A.M., you see him on the train.

He always boards two stops after yours, dressed in earth tones and quiet silences. There's a softness to him—the slope of his shoulders, the way he leans ever so slightly against the pole even when there’s a free seat.

He carries a book some days, a plain black umbrella on others. You’ve never heard him speak, but you’ve built a voice for him in your head anyway: calm, deep, a little rough like he only just woke up.

You don’t know his name. 

You know how he tucks his hair behind his ear when it falls forward, though. You know he reads with his thumb pressed between pages, like he’s holding space in more than just one chapter. You know the way his eyes flicker to the window, then away, like he’s still not used to being seen.

This is your first life: the planting of seeds. 

A glance, a passing thought, a what-if rooted in the mundane. You sit with him in silence, three bodies apart, and imagine what it might be like to bump into him at a coffee shop, to hear him laugh, to say something that earns you a second look.

Once, the train jerks too hard at a stop and he stumbles. Your hand shoots out before your brain catches up, steadying him by the forearm.

He murmurs something—a thank you, you assume— and offers a brief smile. It’s not quite the real thing, but it’s enough to keep you warm the rest of the day.

It’s nothing. It’s everything.

You begin to notice the little things. The way his shoes are always a little scuffed. The tiny pin on his tote bag shaped like a cat. The crease between his brows when he reads something particularly intense.

You wonder if he’s single. If he likes rainy days or prefers the sun. If he’d like the sound of your laugh. If he’s ever looked at you and thought, maybe.

You don’t know it yet—you won’t, not for some time—but you’ve already begun loving him. Not in the way that demands. In the way that simply hopes. That soft, shapeless kind of affection that asks for nothing in return.

Your mother calls this phase infatuation. Your friends call it a crush. But it feels deeper than that, doesn’t it? 

Something older. Like a seed you’d forgotten you planted, blooming in the background of your everyday life.

You don’t talk to him. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

You still show up every morning at 7:42 A.M., and that feels like something sacred.

Some people meet under fireworks. Others, under streetlights. 

You meet under the hum of subway rails, in the hush of early morning.

And even if nothing comes of it, you’ll remember this as the time you first saw Jeon Wonwoo—when your first love took root on a train that always ran late.

Your second life starts with an assigned seat.

It’s the first day of the semester, and the classroom hums with new pens, old anxieties, and the sharp scent of whiteboard markers. The teacher calls out names alphabetically, and when she says “Jeon Wonwoo,” you don’t flinch.

You don’t remember him from the train, of course—not in this life. That’s how these things work.

He slides into the seat beside yours. A quiet presence that feels oddly familiar. You glance over, and he nods politely, lips pressed in a near-smile.

“Hi,” you say.

“Hey,” he replies. His voice is calm, deep, a little rough like he only just woke up.

This is your second life: the watering of seeds.

What started as quiet curiosity now stretches its limbs toward the light. You’re no longer strangers in motion, but classmates. Partners in the second row.

Wonwoo is the kind of student who doesn’t speak unless he has something to say, but when he does, it sticks with you. He lends you a pen on the second day without you asking. He shares a pack of sour candy with you during long lectures.

He passes you a note during a film screening that just says: This movie is terrible.

You laugh, quietly, and write back: You’re just saying that because you have no taste.

The corner of his mouth twitches. “You wound me,” he murmurs, the words only for you to hear. A lot of Wonwoo’s words are that— yours and yours alone. 

You get partnered for a project. Your topic is obscure and boring, but somehow, working with him makes it bearable. You bicker. He rolls his eyes at your messy notes. You start staying late after class to finish the presentation.

One night, you’re both hunched over his laptop in the library. It’s raining outside. The air smells like paper and distant thunder.

“Do you believe in past lives?” you ask him out of nowhere.

He looks at you, long and unreadable. “I think we meet the same people over and over. Just in different ways,” he eventually says.

He’s indulging you. You’re not sure why. You push it, as if somehow wheedling an answer out of him might solve the pitter-patter in your chest. “So, maybe we’ve met before?”

“Maybe,” he says. Then, softer: “Feels like I’ve known you longer than a month.”

Your heart does that thing again. A steady lurch, like a train car that turned a corner a little too fast. 

It’s nothing. But it’s also everything.

He walks you home after. You share his umbrella. He offers the dry side of the sidewalk.

You don’t hold hands. Not yet. Maybe not ever. 

But your sleeve brushes his once, twice. He doesn’t pull away.

The seeds are growing. They don’t know what they’ll become. They reach out of the soil and towards the sun anyway.

In your third life, there is yield. Something that bears ripe fruit, enough for you to pick and take a bite of. 

Your mothers meet in the hospital nursery, trading horror stories about labor while you and Wonwoo cry in tandem from two separate cribs. Dual births, dual baby albums, dual high chairs at every party.

The houses share a fence, your families share garden tools and barbecues, and you and Wonwoo—well. You share everything else.

From the moment you could speak, you said his name like a reflex. 

Your first sentence was reportedly, “Where’s Woo-woo?” and his was your name, mispronounced and gummy.

The tapes your moms keep are a blur of toddler feet and wonky camera angles. There’s one where he’s in your kiddie pool wearing a bucket on his head, and you’re laughing like he just invented comedy.

No one ever sat you down to explain your friendship. It just existed, like gravity or rain. And maybe that’s why the feelings sneak up on you. You’ve never known life without Wonwoo—how are you expected to know when the air has started to shift?

The day it happens, you’re sixteen. Lying on the warm roof of the garden shed while he’s reading aloud from some fantasy book you insisted on but couldn’t get through. 

You’re not listening to the words. You’re watching the way his lips move, the way his lashes catch the sun. You’re trying to memorize the curve of his jaw, and then you’re thinking: Oh. Oh no.

You spend weeks pretending it didn’t happen.

“You good?” he asks once, when you nearly fall off the roof trying to avoid sitting too close.

“I'm fine,” you say, too fast.

He frowns, puts his book down. “You're acting weird.”

You sit up, brush dust off your shorts, make a face. “You’re weird.”

“That’s not a denial.”

“Shut up and read, Wonwoo.”

He does, but the silence between his sentences stretches.

It becomes harder to lie the more he smiles at you, the more he brushes dirt from your cheek or laughs at your jokes. You feel like you’re drowning in something warm and familiar, something you’ve known all your life but never named.

One night, after a school dance you don’t attend, he climbs through your window like always, hoodie slung over his shoulder. You’re sitting on your bed, and he flops beside you like gravity yanked him there.

“You ever think about stuff?” he asks.

You side-eye him. “That’s vague.”

“I mean, like... why some things feel easy. Like how we never had to try to be friends.”

You don’t say anything. The warmth in your chest is unbearable. He’s right there. He’s always been right there.

“Do you ever feel like we’ve known each other longer than we should’ve?” he continues, eyes on your ceiling. “Like, before this?”

You blink. Your heart pounds so loud, you’re sure he hears it.

“Sometimes,” you whisper. “Sometimes I think I’ve been in love with you before I even knew what love was.”

He turns to look at you. And Wonwoo—quiet, steady, unshakable Wonwoo—smiles like he’s been waiting all his lives to hear it.

“Me, too,” he says. 

Your first life—

You wonder about him for years. His quiet demeanor, the books he read, the way he always stood near the door but let everyone pass him when it was his stop.

That was the first version of this feeling: Something sudden, warm, and unearned. Like the sun through a window. 

You never know his name, but you built stories around him on every ride, convinced that maybe, just maybe, he’ll turn around one day and say something. 

He never does. 

And when you graduate, change routes, move cities, you never see him again. He becomes nothing more than that. A story. A seed. A start—for what, you don’t know yet. 

Your second life— 

He had felt like a miracle, like fate circling back to tap you on the shoulder. You thought that love would bloom into something permanent. It felt like it should have. 

But timing is cruel, and the feelings—though mutual—couldn’t survive the storm of adolescence, the fear of messing up something tender. You tell yourself you weren’t meant to be.

You carry him with you anyway, in the songs you send each other, the paper cranes folded during long lectures, the way he once said your name like a secret he didn’t want anyone else to hear.

He walks you home, still, until he can’t. Until a lovely girl takes your place under his umbrella, and you find someone else to share your snacks with. 

At reunions, you exchange polite smiles and aborted nods. Both of you find happiness beyond each other.  

And then, the hardest of them all— 

The one who knew every bad haircut and birthday wish. The one who saw you through braces, heartbreak, and every awkward year in between.

You loved him with the kind of ease that novels try to replicate; for a moment, you thought that might be enough. But when the time came, when the feelings were named and returned, you both pulled back. 

Not out of fear, but reverence. 

Some things are too precious to touch. You’d rather have him forever as your constant, your anchor, than risk a goodbye too painful to bear.

“Maybe in our next life,” he breathes, forehead against yours, breath warm. “Maybe then we’ll be brave.”

You nod, your fingers curling over the front of his shirt like it might somehow keep him in place. “We always find each other, don’t we?”

He smiles. It looks a lot like a promise. 

In that life, you yield. 

At least you get to keep him. He delivers a tearful speech at your wedding. He makes you the godmother of his children. Your love reshapes into something else. One that still matters, even if it’s not the kind that you might have expected. 

Three versions of a first love. 

None of them last. All of them linger.

You don’t regret a single one.

The fourth life begins like the others—quietly, without fanfare.

You meet Wonwoo at a time when everything is finally still. 

No childhoods to tiptoe around, no adolescent crushes that tilt into heartbreak. You aren’t sitting across from him in a classroom or watching him disappear behind the closing doors of a train.

He is simply there—on a late spring afternoon at a mutual friend’s dinner, wearing a gray sweater and a small, uncertain smile.

You don’t know it at the time, but this is the life you get to keep him.

It starts slow. There’s time, now. You learn him from the beginning, with no earlier version to compete with. And yet something familiar pulses beneath it all.

You know how he likes his coffee before he tells you. You can predict the rhythm of his speech, the slope of his laughter. You fall in love with him easily, steadily—like gravity pulling you to the ground.

He is your first love in this life. You don’t tell him. Not yet.

And then one day, you lose him.

The details don’t matter. A job offer. A choice. A goodbye. Whatever it is, you let go. It feels like the end of a story you’ve lived too many times before. You think: This is the harvest, and it was never mine to reap.

But you were promised joy in this life, weren’t you?

Years later, you see him again. A bar, this time. Familiar in a way that makes your throat tighten. He hasn’t changed much—still soft-eyed, still shy with his smiles.

“Wonwoo?” you ask, unsure if you want it to be him or not.

He turns. Freezes. His voice, calm and deep, amused and affectionate, shapes the words in the back of your mind: “I was hoping it’d be you.”

You sit. You drink. You talk.

You tell him, somewhere between the second and third beer, “You were my first love, you know.”

Sure, you’re talking about this life, but a part of you feels like it goes beyond that. You’re not sure how many iterations of this story exist in the book of the universe; all you know is that this simply cannot be the only time you’ve counted Wonwoo’s eyelashes, as if you might be able to make wishes with them. 

He looks at you for a long moment. Studies you. As if, he too, is mapping out the features of your face against versions of you that no longer exist.

“You were mine, too,” he says.

You laugh, disbelieving. “Really?”

“Really.” 

There’s silence. A good one.

And then finally, finally, he kisses you. No fanfare. No salty tears as you resolve to stay friends. It’s not a daydream on the subway, not a fleeting thought in a library. 

It’s just that same, steady gravity of eventuality. 

When his hand finds yours, when your lips press together, when he pulls apart with a half-smile, you know. Jeon Wonwoo is your first love, and this time, he’ll be your last love, too.

In this life, you finally reap what you sowed.

In this life, the love lasts. 

[mdsbabygirl]

Cam girl!reader x bllk men

Synopsis: when the desperate and horny bllk men fall for the pretty cam girl

Featuring: Isagi Yoichi/Bachira Meguru/Chigiri Hyoma/ Yukimiya Kenyu/Alexis Ness/Michael Kaiser

Cw: SMUT MDNI, masturbation , porn addiction, jealousy, obsessiveness, egoistical men, horny men lol, reader is an adult entertainment worker, idk what else to add

ISAGI YOICHI:

Isagi isn't the type to fall for appearances. He'd usually value morals over looks, after all he's a gentleman that falls for a woman's inner beauty rather than how well she can ride cock; he thinks. He never imagined himself lowering at such a low, filthy level. Alas, the hormones got the better of him, so here he was stroking his cock in languid strokes, as he was watching your live. You were almost naked, if it hadn't been for those two tiny lace pieces covering your most sensitive spots, that you dared to call lingerie. You were so hot, hypnotizing your viewers with your body, voice and moves just like a siren, and Yoichi was yet another one of your victims.

In his dimly lit room, the air was thick with anticipation, he sat on the edge of his bed, his breath already coming in ragged gasps. His hand moved up and down his hard length as he jerked himself off, his browns furrowed in pure ecstasy as he was concentrated on the moans that escaped from the speakers. "Mmm, yeah... just like that..."

Isagi could have never imagined the extent of his lust for you, everyday logging into his account to see any updates on your upcoming live streams. He was addicted to you, he got high off the way you touched yourself, the way you rolled your hips while riding your dildo or the way you made ass bounce. He was utterly consumed by his cam girl's allure, drowning in an ocean of his own unquenchable desire. He felt rather possessive of you, referring to you as his girl, he'd mutter countless curses under his breath, imagining how much better he could make you feel. "That stupid toy doesn't know what it's doing." He'd say, leaning back in his chair, stroking himself faster as he watches you slide the pink dildo in and out of your wet pussy. Continuing to pump his cock, he watched intensely as you increased pace, your moans growing louder. "Damn, she needs a real man," he growls, his ego inflating alongside his dick. "I could ruin her pussy so much better than that dildo ever could." He'd groan as his cock twitches, spurting hot ropes of pearly cum on his abs, as he'd imagine how your pretty count would squeeze the hell out of him.

Bachira Meguru:

Bachira's routine changed significantly after his new discovery. Late night training sessions turned into him sitting in his dimly-lit apartment, eyes locked onto the laptop screen, transfixed on the cam girl dancing seductively on camera - his new obsession. His hand moved roughly over his cock as he watched her. "Fuck, look at those tits..." He was truly infatuated with the way you looked, particularly your boobs, he liked the way your nipples perked up in contact with the cold air, or when you pinched them with your fingers, enjoying the little mewled erupting from your delicious-looking lips.

Meguru's obsession deepens with each passing night. He convinces himself that you, with your seductive figure and sultry moves, were destined solely for him. Logging into your streams became his most sacred ritual, his heart racing when your flirtatious smile graced the screen. He'd call you "my angel," "my princess" while masturbating to your body. "None of those other viewers know how to appreciate her like I do... I'm the only one who truly understands her beauty." He'd coo, as he'd watch you rub your clit at a fast pace, rubbing his dick in erratic motions as his hips jerked upward, thick spurts of cum staining the PC's screen. He wished it was your face instead of that damn screen tho.

Chigiri Hyoma:

His fateful discovery happened one late night, when he was scrolling aimlessly on the internet, searching for something entertaining, he stumbled across a pretty cam girl's profile, your profile. Your captivating smile and heavenly body had immediately caught his eye. He was drawn to you like a moth to a flame. Chigiri was into you a little more than he liked to admit. Sleepless nights he passed jerking off to your sexy dances streams, dilated pupils focused on every single move, every sway of your hips, every squeeze of your tits, every bite on your red lips, EVERYTHING .

Hyoma would click on your live stream, his eyes widening as you danced seductively in front of the camera. He felt his pants grow tight, his length hardening. "God, she's so hot..." He whimpered softly, unbuttoning his jeans to free his aching erection. His fist pumped wildly up and down his shaft, each stroke accompanied by a desperate whimper. "Ah, fuck... just like that, baby..." He gasped, imagining you riding him hard. His hips bucked erratically, seeking out a pleasure he knew only you could provide. He watched you, with half lidded eyes, his breath heavy as his fist never stopped moving. With a choked cry, Hyoma's release hit him hard. He came all over his hand and stomach, moaning out filthy praises. "Fuck, you're so perfect... I'd fill you up with my cum every day if you were here with me..." He cried out

Yukimiya kenyu:

Kenyu's eyes were glued to the screen, his breathing ragged as he stared at your ondulating figure. His heart ached with an unfamiliar longing, his thoughts spinning with the sinfulness of his obsession. "This is so wrong..." He whispered to himself, feeling ashamed by his actions. Much like Isagi, Yukimiya wasn't one to fall for such sinful temptations, his strong belief in god had made him immune to the greed and lust most people tended to fall for, he thought. Nonetheless, he was still human, having his own needs and desires. When he found your account he didn't think he would get so infatuated with you. Your body radiating pure sex appeal didn't really help his newfound kin to you, actually it turned it into a full on obsession.

Everyday, he'd sit at his desk watching you as his hand moved desperately up and down his length, each touch sending bolts of pleasure through his body. " She's so beautiful..." His voice cracked in need. He knew this was wrong, downright sinful, yet despite this inner turmoil he couldn't tear his eyes off of you. Kenyu's face was scrunched up in a mix of pleasure and guilt as he jerked himself off. His hand flew over his length, his breathing ragged and uneven. "I'm going to hell for this..." he'd moaned, his eyes fixated on your bouncing curves. Suddenly, wave after wave of agonizing bliss crashed over Kenyu. His cock throbbed intensely as he came hard, pearly essence spurting onto his abdomen. "Ahhh, fuck... I'm cumming. God forgive me..." He'd whine, throwing his head back as he'd imagine how he'd make love to you.

Alexis Ness :

Ness had stumbled upon your account by accident, a random click leading him to a world he never knew he needed. Your username, "SweetSiren," was etched into his mind, and your profile picture—a sultry pout and a glimpse of cleavage—had drawn him in like a magnet. He never imagined himself obsessing over someone else who wasn't kaiser, yet here he was palming his hard-on from his pants as he was looking at some of your pics.

Your streams were always packed with viewers, but Alexis felt like you were performing just for him. The way you arched your back, the way you bit your lip ever do seductively, the way you spread your legs so invitingly... It was all for him. Or so he liked to believe. "Fuck, look at that pretty pussy..." He'd groan, finally freeing his aching erection from the restriction of his pants that had become a little too tight for him. His hand moved frantically over his hard length, imagining it was your touch instead. He moaned out loud, his voice laced with desire and need. "I'd treat you like a queen... give you everything you desire... but who else gets to see this beautiful face?" He moaned loudly, head thrown back. When he looked up to see more of your sexy features, he was met with other viewers' tips and comments, which made his jealousy flare up "Stupid perverts... She's mine! Only I get to see her like this..." He growled, his pace increasing as he jerked himself off violently. "When I finally meet you, I'll lock you away...nghh..ill make you mine Angel.." he'd whimper, hips jerking upward to meet his movements. "I'd make you scream my name every night, baby. Only I get to fuck that tight pussy..." Ness's fantasies ran wild as he stroked himself harder, his grip tightening around his shaft, making him cum violently, as thick ropes of creamy semen hit his toned abdomen, making his duck twitch in pleasure. He'd make you his one way or another, he just has to find a way to do so.

Michael Kaiser:

Michael Kaiser was a man of precision and strategy, both on and off the field. But when it came to his obsession with the cam girl, aka you, all logic flew out the window. He spent hours observing your streams, picking apart your every move, every facial expression. He wanted —needed— to know what things you liked and what not, he desperately sought the things that made your eyes roll back to the back of your skull, the things that made your toes curl and scream in pleasure.. he needed to know every little detail about you, his little slutty princess.

He'd tip you hundreds of dollars at a time, just to see you smile or hear you say his name. He'd request you to wear certain outfits, to say specific phrases, to play with particular toys... All to feed his insatiable obsession.

He'd sit in his dark room, the glow of his laptop casting eerie shadows on his face. His hand moved swiftly over his length as he watched you dance on his screen. "Say it..." He whispered, his voice hoarse as he stroked himself harder. You on the other line, just received another hundred dollars, which made you squeal in excitement, and at the same time bite your lips at your mysterious donor's request. You breathed in slowly, approaching the camera as you looked directly into it, "uhh.. Kaiser I want your cock so bad! Want it so deep inside me..." You moaned and mewled, all the while keeping your siren like allure, hypnotizing each and every one of your viewers, Kaiser included. His breath hitched as you teased you nipples, rolling them between your fingers. "Fuck... just like that," he moaned, his grip tightening around his cock. He imagined it was your hand, your mouth, your pussy wrapped around him instead of his own fist. With a stifled groan, Michael felt his orgasm building fast. His muscles tense, veins throbbing as he stroked feverishly, matching the rhythm of your seductive dance on screen. "Fuck... coming..." Several streams of hot cum shot out onto his stomach. "Jesus... baby..." He grilled, half lidded eyes glued to his screen as he watched you smile content as another very generous donation was made to you, "thank you so much Kaiser, you're such a generous Daddy!" You cooed, looking up at the camera with dolly eyes, all while he'd chuckle, ready for another round of masturbation.

© mdsbabygirl do not copy or translate my work without my permission

[igotanidea]

Circle of life: Jason Todd x reader

AKA: the one when teen!Jason had been teased about his crush and what happened later.

***

„Soooo… when will Y/N come over again?”

„What do you mean?” Jason looked up at his older brother from the book he was reading, not understanding what Dick meant by this innocent line.

Though there was a little shade of pink blooming on his cheeks.

“I’m just saying – “ Dick plopped on Jason’s bed “She’s kinda cute, don’t you think?”

“Um…” Jason bit his bottom lip, forcing eyes back on the book, to not show the pink turning red.

“And she seems to like you, you know.”

“She does?” Big blue eyes landed on Dick’s face before realizing he walked right into the skillfully set trap.

Poor Jason. He was barely 14 and going through his first crash. And it was twice as intense for him, considering the fact he was just starting to learn what infatuation (love?) felt like.

And he was being teased about it by both Dick and Bruce. And maybe even Alfred if you think about it, thought the butler was a little more subtle doing so.

“Yes. I’m pretty sure she does. I know girls, you know.” Grayson just couldn’t help himself from throwing a veiled self-compliment.

“Right…”

“Hey, listen, maybe we can go to the funfair this weekend?”

“To the funfair?”

“Sure. Why not?” Dick shrugged “I owe Babs a date after all, we might as well make it a double one.”

“Mhm. So you could keep making out and freak Y/N out?” For a young teenager Jason was too perceptive for his own good and this time it was Dick’s turn to blush.

“It was one time!”

“It’s disgusting!”

“It’s not disgusting, Jaybird. Besides I’m pretty sure, you would love to kiss Y/n and – “

“Bleugh!”

Dick rolled his eyes and laughed.

“Stop laughing!”

“You’re so cute being in love.”

“I am not in love!”

“Sure, sure, whatever you say.” Dick laughed harder and snatched something from Jay’s desk. Said something being a note with Y/N;s name written in multiple fonts all over the paper. “I swear, you’re like a teen girl.”

“Give it back!”

“Soooo cute!” Dick hummed, grabbing Jay’s cheek and pinching it softly, before jumping on a safe distance. It was such an easy target bordering on the impossibility of letting  the opportunity pass by.

“Shut up…”

“Hm? Did I hear you curse?”

“Bruce won’t agree to it, either way, so you can stop now.”

“You think Bats would deny you meeting a girl you like?”

“She’s a civilian.”

“And?”

“Don’t you know the rules, Dick?”

“The rules….? Oh wait. Wait. The rules. The rules.... “ Nightwing scratched his head, feigning wondering what this word may actually mean. “Oh right! THE RULES! The – no dragging civilians into vigilante life.”

“You’re acting like an idiot now.” Jason muttered, starting to feel like talking to his big brother was nothing more but  a waste of time and a loss of brain cells.

“Hey there, don’t be mean. Listen, you gotta screw the rules sometimes.”

“Screw the rules?” Even repeating those words seemed like a blasphemy and out of the sudden Jason was transferred back in time to those moments with his so-called parents and those rare occasions when he actually dared to disobey and the implications of said action. “I – I can’t –“

Shit.

Dick never meant for the innocent teasing to turn into reliving a generational trauma.

“I’ll talk to Bruce. I’m sure he’ll make an exception for you.” His voice tore through the fog of memories and Jason sighed deeply, shaking head to get the remnants out of his system.

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Then I’ll make sure to remind him of all the times he was acting like a hypocrite and going against his own rules by sleeping with.. –Eh!I mean – meeting with- models and journalists.”

***

To be young and in love and in New York city…

Or – to be young and falling and in Gotham.

Not equally as romantic but still wonderful.

And somehow, being focused on each other, Jason and Y/N somehow managed to forget and look past the darkness, gloominess and ubiquitous crime in the city.

Laughing, having fun, even sharing cotton candy.

Going through the motions, just spending a nice time together, having more than one moment of awkwardness and embarrassment when their eyes met for a moment longer and they both turned their gazes away, blushing and sweating.

All much to the amusement of Dick, who volunteered to chaperone them both.

And if it wasn’t for Babs, patting his head or grabbing his hand every time he wanted to rush forward and throw jokes, the not-a-date would probably end up being a disaster.

“Come on, Barbara, you can’t possibly keep me quiet!” he groaned. “Just look at them!” He pointed towards the two 14 year olds in front of them. Currently Jason was throwing balls into the plastic cups, determined to win a plushie for Y/N, who was standing beside, watching his every movement, inhaling sharply every time he aimed.  

“I sure as hell will try. Don’t act like your name.”

“This is so not fair…” Richard whined theatrically, crossing arms over his chest and pouting like a kid, who didn’t get the lollipop. “I am being restrained!”

“Just keep your mouth closed and eyes open. They are so cute together…”

“Aha! You see, I knew you’d come around and admit I was right!”

“I never disagreed on that.”

“But – you never told me-“

“Of course not. Why give you the satisfaction and possibility of using the words “I told you so?”

“You’re so mean, I swear-“

“YAY! Good job, Jason!” Y/N’s voice echoed through the space, followed by her soft chuckle and a proud grin of Jason, who clearly had just won a first prize.

Much to the shock of the owner of the entertainment booth, because for the past five years the man had been coming to Gotham, no one managed to achieve that, let alone a kid, whose head was barely reaching the counter.

“Thanks….” He muttered, her cheer and happiness making his heart grow much more than the actual winning.

A moment later, he was holding onto the giant plushie racoon, avoiding her eyes, handing the toy to her.

And sure as hell he didn’t expect Y/N, the Y/N¸ to lean forward and press a little kiss to his cheek.

He could burn at the spot.

But it was nice. Warm and soft and new and –

“OOOH!” Dick cooed from the sidelines, before Barbara patted his head again, placing hand on his face to shut any potential further comment falling from that foul mouth.

“Richard!”

“I – “ Y/N could burn at the spot and judging by Jason’s face he was in the same hell as she was. “I – I –.“ It was about to turn into the world’s most terrifying moment for her. Being laughed at because she gathered enough courage to open up a little and –

But somehow, Jason suddenly became way more protective, reaching for her hand and squeezing it reassuringly as if apologizing for his stupid brother.

And she squeezed back.

It was just a fraction of a moment, before they both pulled back, but it was enough.

“Hey, how about we take a photo of us all?” Babs caught up on the subtle gesture and sprang into action, ready to remedy the situation.

“So cute---"

Another comment of the same content coming from Dick Grayson ended with three pairs of very unsatisfied eyes.

And two weeks of silent treatment from his girlfriend.

And a photo of four people consisting of boyfriend and girlfriend kissing and his brother and friend holding hand and smiling, albeit awkwardly.

***

Eight years later.

“How much longer?!” The knocking on the bathroom door was getting more and more insistent and hence – annoying.

“You’re making this longer by being a menace!”

“I am not getting late on the-“

“When did you become so punctual?” she laughed through the door

“Since I’m playing the most important role in the -“

“Ok, ok, fine, I’m ready. I’m ready.  You act like you don’t know I’m never late.”

Y/N was standing in front of him, looking like a freaking model from a freaking magazine and if they were about to miss the time it would be because he simply couldn’t take eyes off her.

“You like?”

“I – wow, I mean – “ he took a sharp inhale, barely holding back from whistling.

She grinned, her woman vanity taking control.

“Look at you all tongue tied.”

“You can’t blame me for getting a little hot for my girlfriend!”

“I can’t. And I won’t. But you can admire me a little later, how about that?” She fixed his tie lovingly “And by the way, you are quite handsome yourself.”

“God!” Jason groaned and grabbed her by the waist, bestowing a luscious, passionate kiss on her. “Can I steal you away?”

“What happened to-“

“Screw it. Run away with me.” He whispered, nuzzling into her neck.

Y/N laughed, wriggled out of his embrace, grabbed his hand and guided him towards the car.

“But I thought-“

“I am not riding backpack in this dress and those heels.”

“But – “

“Ah! No buts. Get in or I’ll be the one behind the wheel.”

“God, you’re a terrorist!” Jason quickly gathered himself, taking the driver’s spot.

***

As expected, the ceremony was beautiful.

The bride was breathtaking, the groom was exceptionally nervous, the flowers and decorations turned out perfect and at least a few women cried, touched by the emotionality of it all.

Emotionality that got even to Jason as he watched Y/N walk down the aisle, with a simple bouquet of field flowers, finally taking the place in front of him, by the altar, smiling softly.

Prelude to the main act of their lives.

It felt like all the winding roads and blinding lights led them to this moment.

Through the loss and pain and fear and trauma and laugh and love and peaceful moments and just being there for one another.

Eyes locked, hands itching by their sides, no words said, yet so many exchanged.

Lost in the feeling.

In their heads they were playing in their own movie that fused so many genres.

And the fact that neither Jason nor Y/N were main characters didn’t matter, at least not until the most important question echoed in their ears.

“Do you, Richard Grayson take Barbara Gordon—”

“I do.”

“Do you Barbara Gordon take Richard Grayson—”

“I do.”

“I pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

The whole church erupted in a sound of cheering and joy and only two guests were completely quiet, exchanging knowing smiles of love.

***

“Hey, how about we take a photo of us all?” the bride stood up from behind the table, grabbing her maid of honor,  by one hand and her husband by the other.

“That reminds me of something – “ Jason quickly reached for Y/n, not willing to let her out of his reach under no circumstances.

“Really? What does it remind you of?” Dick grinned wildly, getting a soft spat on the head from his betrothed.

“Richard!” she scoffed, grinning the same way.

“Sooooooo cute….”

“Shut up…” Jason put on the widest smile.

“She likes you back, you know?” Dick quoted himself from the past.

“Oh, she so likes you back.” Y/N chimed in

“So cute being in looooove.” Grayson laughed.

“So in love….” Jason hummed, looking deep into Y/N’s eyes.

“Say cheese, guys!” The photographer called, taking a photo.

A photo of four happy people, consisting of a bride and groom holding hands and smiling and a best man and maid of honor kissing.

[animeyanderelover]

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, clinginess, paranoia, abduction, Nsfw, masturbation, dubcon, oral sex, size kink, praise kink, mirror sex, ropes, handcuffs, overstimulation, breeding kink, afab reader

Tags: @lovley-valentine7

Nsfw Hc's

🩵​I feel like fanfic writers don't talk enough about the fact that this man must be so touch-starved. His Infinity is activated all the time, people cannot touch him unless he allows it. So the amount of clinginess that he exhibits with his darling is perhaps in that regard justified. A dam is broken the moment that he falls in love with you and the desire to touch and to be touched is flowing freely out of him. Smothering hugs, suffocating kisses, hands constantly all over you. It's a daily life that you are forced to endure from the moment his obsession blossoms. It's excessive but in the beginning it is not sexual. There's much that Gojo has to do as of now still with his mind filling with paranoia. Your safety has to be ensured, potential enemies have to be obliterated, all competition must disappear. As much sweetness comes with his infatuation, the stress always follows closely and doesn't allow any amorous thoughts in his mind just yet. A semblance of calmness only settles once you are in his apartment, stuck and safely tucked away. Only then is there free space in his head for thoughts and feelings that are much more erotic and intimate as a new desire manifests.

🩵​Gojo initiates it, tries to do so at least. Hands slide under your shirt, tracing over the cups of your bra whilst his lips travel down to your neck, smothering it with rough kisses. Only that he stops whenever you tense up or push him away, blue eyes filled with a hunger that he tries to hold back. For now your unwillingness holds him back though it will eventually not be a free pass to use anymore. A part of Satoru wants you to reciprocate, wants to see that you yearn for him as much as he does for you. He is not delusional enough to ever genuinely believe that though. He tries to be satiated with the kisses and the hugs you reluctantly tolerate, with jerking himself off but it is not enough. Not in the long run. What he needs isn't something his own hands can provide him with and the longer you refuse, the pushier and needier you grow in return. Frustration bubbles up within him as something is denied from him, something he desperately needs if his painfully hard boner is anything to go by. It will happen, it is inevitable. A realisation you cannot deny yourself until eventually you allow it out of fear to see what he would do if you were to continue to push him away.

🩵​Still, your reluctance is hard to ignore and almost threatens to disturb Gojo the first time that he takes you. It is that reluctance that results in the speed he always claims you forever after. Within his home he makes free use of all the space that he has as he ends up fucking you wherever space is available. There is at one point no room left where he hasn't undressed you and slams his aching cock into you. The kitchen counter, the shower, the bathtub, the couch or even the floor are witnesses to long and intense sex between him and you, mixed fluids always staining the surface by the end of it all. His tongue is always eager and fast to enter you the moment your panties are gone, pushing greedily deep within your plush and hot walls, his hot breath fawning over your sensitive pussy as he eats you out like a starved mutt. Your reluctance would be poison for a situation he needs to be intimate and filled with mutual desire which is why he resorts to the strategy where he doesn't even give you any time to properly think. Instead his large hands squeeze your hips greedily as he pushs your pussy closer to his face as he forces an orgasm out of you without giving you any time to process.

🩵​Overstimulation is common and constant as first his tongue and later his long cock force you into orgasm and moments of only bliss and no thoughts. He loves fucking you out of your mind but not because he feels sadistic nor because he plans to degrade you. No, it is simply because in this state you just give in to your desire and reciprocate his own needs. It is not perfect, not yet what he wishes for the both of you to have but it is the best he can get for now and so he latches onto it eagerly. Every plea, every whimper of his name sends electricity straight into his pulsing dick, his hips snapping against yours almost painfully as shallow and rapid pants escape his lips, his hot breath fawning your face. His greed tires you quickly as your head starts pounding and your legs start hurting yet any begging of yours for him to stop is cut off by his lips muffling all process, by his husky voice telling you that you can take more as he starts thrusting faster into you, pushing you over the edge once more. He leaves you so exhausted by the end of it all that you have little to no strength left to get angry at him or to say anything that would ruin the blissful experience he just shared with you.

🩵​He resorts to physical restriction during times where you are difficult. His own strength is more than enough to restrain you yet he prefers to have them all over your body, reverently running over every curve and inch of your figure. That is how your wrists end up cuffed or tied to the bed as you lose half of your ability to defend yourself even just the tiniest bit, your legs spread apart with ease to reveal to Satoru's blue eyes what he needs the most in that moment. All the tugging and desperate wriggles of your hands to free them often result in your skin being raw by the end of it all, a burning stinging located within your wrists. His own lips always press kisses all over the raw skin as a silent apology whenever he releases your hands, a tiny spark of guilt in his eyes. He discovers his kink for mirror sex by accident whilst fucking you in front of one in the bathroom and glancing at the reflection. The different angles reflected in the glass and even the fact that you can see within the reflection how you get fucked turns him on. He starts ordering an entire bunch of mirrors, places them everywhere and always fucks you in a position where you have a perfect view of the many reflections staring back at you.

🩵​His strategy of pushing you relentlessly into euphoria after euphoria works as you often end up downright delirious. Otherwise you would have noticed one thing much earlier, something that worries you quite a lot the moment you finally realise it. Satoru never pulls out. He doesn't use any protection as that would rub him of the pleasure and the feeling of plunging into your warm walls and he never pulls out whenever he feels his balls tightening either. No, instead you notice that he always makes sure to bury himself inside of you, the tip of his cock nearly kissing your womb as he lets out a choked moan as he shoots his load deep within you. Filled with a dread of what this could mean you confront him quickly about this, question him why he never pulls out of you. He hesitates, a reaction that has your heart pounding nervously when he is faced with your own discomfort. Instead blue eyes land on your stomach, an answer enough already before he eventually admits that he has been thinking a lot about a child with you lately. For now it is only a fantasy as he still allows you to take the pill but you should know that the more you deny him, the more he will end up wanting it.

[theonottsbxtch]

HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEARTS | OP81

an: oscar would so be the nerd at university that NOBODY hated but i got this listening to high school sweethearts by melanie

wc: 3.4k

Oscar wasn’t known for standing out. If anything, he was the type you’d forget was in the room until someone said, “Hey, can you pass me the stapler?” Quiet, unassuming, always with a book in hand or headphones half-falling out of his ears, he drifted through university like a ghost no one was particularly scared of. That is, until he met her.

She—loud, chaotic, unapologetically strange—was the kind of person who made an entrance just by breathing. People called her insane, whispered about her after lectures, and swapped stories about her latest absurd escapades. But to Oscar, she wasn’t insane. She was magnetic.

The first time he saw her, she was sitting cross-legged on a table in the middle of the library, explaining in detail why the library’s “No Food” policy was a direct attack on her personal freedoms. The staff were too stunned to stop her. Oscar was too stunned to look away.

By the time she noticed him staring—wide-eyed, clutching his battered notebook—she smiled, sharp and knowing. “You’ve got a crush, don’t you?” she said, not a question but a declaration.

Oscar didn’t deny it. How could he? Her gaze pinned him to the spot, like she’d peeled back his layers and found the embarrassing, undeniable truth: he was completely infatuated.

“Thought so,” she said, hopping off the table with an exaggerated stretch. “Well, listen up, quiet boy. If you’re gonna have a crush on me, there are rules.”

“Rules?” he echoed, voice cracking slightly.

“For dating me,” she said casually, as though she delivered ultimatums like this every day. “And trust me, it’s not for the faint of heart. So, listen close, because I’m only saying this once.”

She held up a finger. “Rule one: You must accept that I’m a little out of my mind.”

Oscar blinked. “A little?”

“Don’t interrupt,” she snapped, but the glint in her eye softened it into something almost teasing. “Rule two: This whole thing is a waste if you can’t walk me down the finish line. I don’t do quitters.”

She was pacing now, her hands moving as she spoke, like she was building the rules out of thin air. “Rule three: Give me passion. Don’t make fun of my fashion, even if it’s ‘unconventional.’ Rule four: Give me more. And I mean more, more, more. Compliments, time, effort—whatever you’ve got, I’ll take it.”

She stopped in front of him, looking him dead in the eye. “Rule five: You can’t be scared to show me off. Hold my hand in public. Smile when people stare. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

Oscar nodded, as if it were a contract he was ready to sign.

“Rule six,” she continued, her voice dropping slightly, “if you can’t put in the work...well, I don’t know what you think this is supposed to be. And rule seven...” She paused dramatically, a slow, sharp grin spreading across her face. “If you cheat, you will die. No exaggeration.”

He laughed nervously, unsure if she was joking. Her expression didn’t budge.

“Wait, you’re serious?” he asked.

“Dead serious.” Her gaze was steady, almost unnervingly so. He felt a strange thrill run through him, a combination of terror and awe.

“Oh,” he said, his voice faint.

“And another thing,” she added, leaning closer. Her voice was a soft purr now, almost conspiratorial. “If you can’t handle the choking, the biting, the loving, the smothering—well, let’s just say you’d better leave now.”

Oscar’s heart raced. For a moment, he thought she might be messing with him. But as he studied her face, the fierce intensity in her eyes, he realised she meant every word. And instead of scaring him off, it only pulled him in deeper.

He swallowed hard, his lips parting as if to respond, but she didn’t wait for him to speak. “You up for it, quiet boy?” she asked, raising a brow. “Or are you gonna run like the rest of them?”

Oscar took a deep breath, his chest tight but his resolve steady. “I’m in,” he said, the words stronger than he expected. “All in.”

Her grin widened. “Good. Don’t disappoint me.”

And just like that, she spun on her heel and sauntered away, leaving Oscar standing there, breathless, overwhelmed, and more in love than he’d ever thought possible.

The whispers started the moment she left the room. Oscar could feel the weight of every stare, the quiet hum of disbelief settling over the students still lingering in the library. He shifted uncomfortably, gripping the strap of his bag, and glanced around. A few people smirked. Others shook their heads, muttering things he couldn’t quite make out—but he knew what they were saying.

"She’s messing with him.""He doesn’t stand a chance.""Poor guy. He’ll regret it."

Oscar didn’t care. He didn’t care that the rest of the university seemed to think she was unapproachable, untouchable. If anything, their doubt only made his resolve stronger.

Later that evening, he found himself sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at his phone. He’d spent hours trying to figure out what to text her. Every draft felt wrong—too eager, too stiff, too... boring. And if there was one thing she didn’t tolerate, it was boring.

Eventually, he settled on something simple:

“So... when do I start following the rules?”

The response came almost instantly:

“Tomorrow. Be ready by 9. Wear something cute. And bring coffee.”

Oscar stared at the message, his heart racing. He wanted to ask where they were going, but something told him she wouldn’t answer. She thrived on keeping people off balance, and he had a feeling she’d enjoy watching him squirm.

The next morning, he was at her door at 8:55, holding two cups of coffee and wearing his nicest shirt. It wasn’t much—just a navy button-up he usually saved for presentations—but he hoped it would pass the “cute” test.

She opened the door with a dramatic flair, her eyes immediately scanning him from head to toe. For a moment, Oscar thought he’d failed. But then she smiled, a slow, wicked grin that made his stomach flip.

“Not bad,” she said, grabbing one of the coffees from his hand. “You’re trainable.”

“Uh, thanks?” he said, not entirely sure if it was a compliment.

She laughed and tugged him inside, closing the door behind him. Her apartment was just as chaotic as he’d imagined—paintings leaned against the walls, half-finished projects scattered across the floor, and a neon sign above the kitchen counter that read Normal Is Overrated.

“So, what’s the plan?” he asked, trying not to trip over a stack of books on his way to the sofa.

She raised an eyebrow. “Rule two, remember? I don’t do quitters, and I don’t do guys who need their hands held. Just keep up, and maybe you’ll survive the day.”

It turned out “keeping up” was a lot harder than he’d expected.

She led him all over the city, dragging him into thrift shops and art galleries, stopping at random street performers to critique their technique, and challenging him to a karaoke battle in the middle of a bustling café. By the time they got to their final stop—a rooftop overlooking the city—Oscar was out of breath, his feet sore, and his head spinning.

“You’re not dead yet,” she said, leaning against the railing and sipping the last of her coffee.

“Barely,” he replied, collapsing onto a nearby bench.

She laughed, a real, genuine laugh that softened her sharp edges for just a moment. “Not bad for day one, quiet boy. But you’ve got a long way to go.”

Oscar looked up at her, the wind catching her hair and the glow of the city lights reflecting in her eyes. She was intense, unpredictable, and completely overwhelming—but as she turned to look at him, a hint of curiosity in her expression, he felt something settle in his chest.

“I’m ready,” he said, surprising himself with how much he meant it. “Whatever it takes, I’m in.”

She tilted her head, studying him like she couldn’t quite figure him out. “You’re weird,” she said finally. “I think I like that.”

And just like that, she turned and started walking away.

“Wait, where are you going?” he called after her.

“Home,” she said over her shoulder. “You’ll text me tomorrow. Same time. Different rules.”

Oscar stayed on the rooftop for a while after she left, the cool breeze clearing his head. He had no idea what he’d just signed up for. But as he watched her disappear into the crowd below, he realised one thing for certain: there was no turning back now.

It had been almost a week of him following her around town doing insane things with her, everytime he did it, he fell for her more than before.

The café buzzed with its usual morning chaos—coffee machines hissing, chairs scraping against the floor, and students chattering as they rushed to squeeze in breakfast before class. Oscar had been there for five minutes, awkwardly lingering at a corner table, when he spotted her weaving through the crowd.

She didn’t walk so much as command the space around her. Her oversized sweater draped lazily over her shoulders, and her combat boots stomped just loud enough to draw attention. In one hand, she clutched her ever-present carton of orange juice.

Oscar’s heart gave its now-familiar leap at the sight of her.

She didn’t smile when she saw him—she rarely did in public—but the slight tilt of her head was enough for him. She slid into the seat next to him, her elbow bumping his in a way that felt oddly reassuring.

And then he showed up.

“Morning, Oscar.”

Oscar tensed instinctively at the voice. Charles. The kind of guy who wore his popularity like a crown and acted like it gave him the right to sit wherever he wanted. Unfortunately, today, that “wherever” was the empty chair on the other side of Oscar.

“Charles,” Oscar said stiffly.

Charles ignored the tone and dropped into the chair, leaning back like he owned the place. His attention flicked briefly to her, sitting silent and unmoving on the other side of Oscar. She didn’t look at him. Not even a glance.

“I see you’re still hanging out with, uh... what’s the word? Unconventional company,” Charles said, his smirk practically oozing condescension.

Oscar opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. He hated confrontation, and Charles had a way of twisting any defense into something laughable.

She didn’t react. Not a word, not a movement. She simply reached across Oscar, setting her orange juice on the table with deliberate slowness, her hand brushing his arm as she did.

Charles raised an eyebrow. “Not gonna say anything, huh? No witty comeback? That’s new. You know, Oscar, if you ever need—”

He didn’t get to finish.

In one fluid motion, she turned, grabbed Oscar by the collar, and pulled him into a kiss. It wasn’t gentle—it was bold, fierce, and entirely unapologetic. The world around them seemed to fall away.

Oscar’s first thought was that he should probably panic. His second thought, as her lips pressed against his and the faint taste of orange juice lingered on his tongue, was that he didn’t want to.

Then came the chaos.

Mid-kiss, her elbow nudged the carton of orange juice. It tipped over, spilling in a perfect arc onto Charles’s lap.

“What the hell?” Charles shot to his feet, the chair scraping loudly against the floor as the juice soaked into his trousers. “Are you serious?”

She finally broke the kiss, her expression perfectly calm as she turned to face Charles. She didn’t say a word. Not a single word.

Charles’s face turned redder by the second. “You’re insane,” he hissed, pointing at her like she was some kind of villain. “I knew it. Completely insane.”

Oscar, still dazed from the kiss, felt a laugh bubbling up in his chest. He couldn’t stop it. It escaped as a quiet chuckle at first, then a full grin spreading across his face.

Charles turned his glare on Oscar. “And you! Are you really just going to sit there and let her—”

“Yes,” Oscar said simply, his voice stronger than he’d expected. He couldn’t stop smiling.

Charles sputtered, utterly dumbfounded, before storming off toward the bathroom, muttering under his breath about how “insane people shouldn’t be allowed in public.”

The café was silent for a beat, and then, like clockwork, the whispers started.

She didn’t seem to notice—or if she did, she didn’t care. She turned back to Oscar, calmly picking up the now-empty orange juice carton and tossing it into a nearby bin.

“That was... a lot,” Oscar said finally, still catching his breath.

She shrugged, her eyes sparkling with something playful. “Rule five,” she said, as if it explained everything.

“Show you off and hold your hand?”

She tilted her head, smiling ever so slightly. “Close enough.”

And just like that, she stood up, as if nothing had happened. “Come on, quiet boy. You’re walking me to class.”

Oscar followed her out of the café, the eyes of half the room trailing after them. For the first time, though, he didn’t care. If this was what insanity felt like, he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to go back to normal.

Over the next few months, she and Oscar became the university’s most inexplicable pairing. People whispered about them constantly, but neither of them seemed to care.

She still refused to conform to anyone’s expectations, roaming campus in outfits that veered between thrift-shop chaos and unapologetic glam. Oscar, meanwhile, remained quiet and steady, like a grounding force to her whirlwind energy.

They settled into their dynamic surprisingly well. She had her rules, and Oscar followed them—sometimes clumsily, but always with devotion. She dragged him to art galleries, night markets, and rooftop parties he’d never have attended on his own. He listened to her rants, held her hand when she insisted, and even endured her merciless teasing when he fumbled a karaoke mic.

In turn, she surprised him, too. Sometimes, when the world got too loud, she’d let herself be vulnerable around him. She’d show up at his apartment late at night, curl up on his couch without a word, and let him hold her until she fell asleep. He learned to read her silences, to understand that sometimes her “insanity” was a mask for something deeper.

They were an odd match, but they worked.

One Friday morning, a few months into their relationship, Oscar found himself in the sports science building for a required class study. His professor was leading the group through a practical demonstration of exercise physiology, and today’s session involved a series of physical tests—strength, endurance, flexibility.

“Right,” the professor called out. “We’ll start with the treadmill test. Everyone take turns, and when it’s your turn, you’ll need to remove your shirt so we can monitor your breathing and heart rate more closely.”

Oscar didn’t think much of it. He was used to this sort of thing. Sports science wasn’t exactly shy about physicality. So, when his turn came, he stepped onto the treadmill and casually peeled off his shirt.

The reaction was immediate.

A low whistle echoed across the room, followed by murmured laughter and a chorus of exaggerated “oohs.”

Oscar froze, his cheeks burning as he turned to look at the group. The guys in his class were all grinning, their eyes fixed not on his face, but his back.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“Uh, dude,” one of them said, barely able to keep a straight face. “You wanna tell us where you got those?”

Oscar frowned, craning his neck to look over his shoulder. That’s when he remembered: the scratches.

His back was a mess of faint red marks—long, jagged streaks that stood out against his otherwise pale skin. They were clearly recent, unmistakable evidence of what could only be described as... passionate nights.

“Oh,” he said weakly, the realisation hitting him like a freight train.

“Oh?” one of the guys repeated, laughing. “That’s all you’ve got to say? Come on, man. Who’s the lucky girl?”

Oscar’s face went crimson. He tugged his shirt back on, muttering something about “none of your business,” but the damage was done.

“Bet it’s that girl,” someone said, the grin in their voice unmistakable. “You know, the one everyone says is kinda crazy.”

Oscar ignored them, focusing on the treadmill’s blinking screen as he started his run. But he couldn’t stop the small, involuntary smile that crept onto his face.

Later that day, he met up with her at their usual spot—a small café tucked away from the campus chaos. She was already there, lounging in her chair with a book in one hand and a coffee in the other.

“You’re late,” she said without looking up.

“Got held up,” he replied, sliding into the seat across from her.

She finally looked up, narrowing her eyes. “Why are you grinning like that?”

“Am I?”

“You are. Spill.”

Oscar hesitated, then leaned in slightly. “Let’s just say the guys in my class found out you’re... hands-on.”

It took her a second to process, but when she did, her face split into a wicked grin. “Oh, really?”

He nodded. “They were... impressed. Lots of whistling. Some questions I refused to answer.”

She laughed, a low, delighted sound that made his stomach flip. “Good. Let them wonder.”

“And you don’t think it’s, I don’t know, embarrassing?”

She reached across the table, her fingers brushing his as she tilted her head in that way that always made him feel like she was reading his mind. “Oscar, sweetie,” she said, her voice teasing but fond, “I’m never embarrassed about liking you. Why should you be embarrassed about liking me?”

He didn’t have an answer for that. All he knew was that in that moment, surrounded by her chaos and certainty, he was exactly where he wanted to be.

After a bit of catching up, they did what they usually did. She pulled out a book and he pulled out his laptop, the both of them doing something in silence. There was a low hum of student chatter filling the air. It was peaceful in a way Oscar had grown to love.

But the peace didn’t last.

A group of guys from his sports science class strolled past, their laughter cutting through the quiet. Oscar didn’t notice them at first—not until one of them whistled, loud and sharp.

“Yo, Oscar!” one of them called, smirking as he walked by.

“Those scratches healed up yet, man?” another teased, nudging his friend.

There was a ripple of laughter, followed by another whistle, and Oscar immediately felt his face heat up.

He looked down at his lap, his cheeks burning as he pretended to adjust the edge of his notebook. The attention made him feel like he wanted to sink into his chair and disappear.

She noticed instantly.

Her gaze snapped up, tracking the guys as they walked away. Then she turned to Oscar, watching as he ducked his head, his shoulders tense with embarrassment.

“No, no, no,” she said firmly, tossing her book aside and sitting up.

“What?” he mumbled, still looking anywhere but at her.

She reached out and gently cupped his chin, forcing him to meet her eyes. There was a teasing glint in her gaze, but her voice was soft when she said, “No, Oscar darling. None of this shy, looking-down nonsense.”

He blinked at her, unsure what to say.

“Listen to me,” she said, leaning closer, her voice dropping into a low, almost conspiratorial tone. “You’re my boyfriend. You’re sweet, gorgeous, and apparently very memorable.” Her lips twitched into a grin. “So soak it in, baby.”

Before he could protest, she grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him toward her.

Her lips pressed against his with deliberate force, and the world around them seemed to fade. The kiss wasn’t subtle or polite—it was just shy of scandalous.

Oscar’s brain short-circuited. He could vaguely hear the distant laughter of the guys who’d whistled, probably in shock, but he didn’t care. His initial surprise melted into something warmer, and he kissed her back, his hands instinctively resting on her waist.

When she finally pulled back, her eyes sparkled with satisfaction. She smirked at him, her fingers still fisted in his shirt.

“Better?” she asked.

He nodded, dazed, his cheeks still flushed but for an entirely different reason now. “Yeah,” he managed, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Good,” she said, leaning back casually as if nothing had happened. She picked up her book and flipped it open again, completely unbothered by the attention they’d drawn.

Oscar, on the other hand, felt the stares of half the cantine burning into his skin. But this time, instead of looking down, he found himself smiling.

If this was what she meant by “soaking it in,” he figured he could get used to it.

the end.

[aajjks]

Only you, Forever me (m)

warnings: yàndèrè thèmès, mástrúbátíón, 18+ thèmès, únhèàlthy fèèlíngs, tóxíc fríend, dàrk thèmès, èxtrèmè jèàlóúsy, mànípùlàtíón, nèw OC!

note. MY LATEST OCCCCCCC!!!? we all need a toxic best friend in life especially a fictional one because the real ones just suck so here he is… I THINK YOU’RE GONNA LIKE HIM TALK TO HIM!!!!!? HEHE

Yandere male best friend who is really possessive of your friendship.

Yandere male best friend who will sabotage every single one of your other friendships just so you will be, and he will be your only friend.

Yandere male best friend who has a possessive streak and he’s really possessive of you as his best friend. You’re his favorite friend.

Yandere male best friend who is really social in contrast to you and he has a large circle of friends, but he’s always hanging out with you.

Like, as said before, he’s really attached to you, yandere male best friend who is borderline obsessed with spending time with you.

Yandere male best friend who has a few issues and he comes from a very rich background, he’s a spoiled and catered to. He expects everyone to fall to his feet and bend to his will.

Yandere male best friend who loves gossiping with you and he will tell you everything that is going on in your campus and in his family

Yandere male best friend who is really protective of you and you’re the only female friend he has, he just loves your company so much. He loved it so much that he will come over to your house at 3 AM.

Whenever he has a fight with his parents, and whenever they don’t give him what he wants, he comes to you when he will rant to you FOR HOURS.

Yandere male best friend who is frankly really handsome, gorgeous even, those green eyes of his are mesmerizing and he knows it

Yandere male best friend who doesn’t like to get into relationships, he fucks around, gets his dick wet and then he’s back to you. Bút his latest fuck buddy notices his infatuation with you.

Yandere male best friend who is a really bratty person, his parents will do anything for him and he knows that. He’s a carbon copy of his mother’s personality.

Yandere male best friend who gives you a lot of gifts and gets you the most expensive stuff like it’s nothing, yandere male best friend who helps you with your rent because you’re broke and he doesn’t mind

Yandere male best friends who just wants you to stay over at his house 24/7 because you make him feel so different and he really likes that feeling

Yandere male best friend who is always walking with you and being with you that everyone thinks that you’re dating him, and he loves that.

Yandere male best friend who cries easily when he doesn’t get his way, especially he manipulates you like it’s breathing

He knows that you’re him and that you have a really soft spot for him

Yandere male best friend who sabotage all of your potential relationships and crushes.

Yandere male best friend who expects you to be available for him 24/7

Yandere male best friend who is completely infatuated with you, you’re on his mind and he’s thinking about you every single passing moment

Yandere male best friend will always be your best friend he will never let anyone take his place,

Yandere male best friend who gets constant boners whenever you bite your lip, or just look at him with your intense gaze.

Yandere male best friend who has to excuse himself and spend hours in the campus bathroom to jerk off furiously, he wants you to suck his cock like you want to suck his soul.

“nhhh fuckkkk yn….. shit… you get me so hot… I wish I had your mouth on me instead of my own damn hand.”

Yandere male best friend who never misses a single day of school so he can spend more and more time with you and sometimes..

Yandere male best friend who just wants to fuck you for hours. Who wants to bury his face in your wet cunt and your huge tits.

Because you don’t care about your dressing when you’re with him, you probably feel comfortable enough with him to not wear a bra, but he notices everything.

And Goodness, it’s fucking torture.

“I need you so fuckin bad but I can never tell you.”

[foreingersgod]

Pls pls something about emily engstler where the reader ( they can be friends at the beginning) keeps staring at her tattoos especially on her hands and emily catches her

Tattoos . EE

pairing: emily engstler x reader

A/N: i’m thinking let’s stay home pt 2 next??

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

“what’re you staring for?” a familiar voice sounded from across the couch. it was so sultry, so smooth. you couldn’t help that your body was drawn to it instantly.

it was a normal day, you and your girlfriend tucked away in the comfort of your home for the weekend. she had had a rough week of intense practice and you had a draining week of work, so the both of you decided to take some time to relax. but it was a dangerous game for you, emily within your reach at all times. she was practically irresistible and you found yourself gawking at her nearly every chance you got.

she was quite literally the hottest person on the planet in your eyes. her hair, her body, her lips, her eyes…everything about her made you crazy. but your favorite thing about her, that made you want to pounce on her at any given moment, are her tattoos. you really couldn’t explain it, why you were so drawn to them. the intricate designs that littered her skin just had some sort of grasp on you, had you drooling like a teen girl over her high school crush. you would squeeze your thighs together in desperation as you’d watch her hand run down her face, ink ridden fingers mindlessly tracing the outline of her lips. god the things it did to you. how her muscles would flex when you’d watch her work out, your eyes glued to the way the tattoos moved with them. everything she did, you’d be admiring the beautiful works of art.

emily wasn’t quite aware of your fixation with her tattoos. rather she knew you liked them, but clueless to the near obsession you had. she never caught onto the stares or the amount of times you’d trace them with your fingernails when you’d lay in bed at the end of the night. she had always figured you’d liked them just like any normal person would. so you would continue on with your infatuation, let yourself indulge every now and then without her noticing.

until now.

“hm?” you blinked rapidly, shaking yourself out of a daydream.

your legs were draped over hers as you laid horizontally across the couch, your head rested against the cushioned arms of the sofa. emily was running her hands up and down your shins aimlessly, making little imaginary drawing here and there. she was scrolling on her phone to pass the time and you were sat there, just looking. for the past, probably 10 minutes, you sat there watching her. watched how her tatted fingers glided smoothly along your skin. watched how they moved effortlessly. it was hypnotizing to watch, getting lost in the print on her fingers. you couldn’t lie, you were getting hot and bothered just thinking about those fingers.

when you had emerged from your fantasies, finally looking over at emily, she was already staring back at you. her phone now discarded somewhere next to her and her gaze glued to you. her fingers had stopped tracing and she had one eyebrow quirked at you in curiosity.

“you’ve been staring at me for like 10 minutes” her head tilted to the side, she was so damn cute “everything ok? is something wrong?”

“m’not staring” you pursed your lips. now it was your fingers, fiddling senselessly out of nerves. you were too embarrassed to admit that you’d been caught.

she just chuckled, tongue running along her bottom lip. her hand rose up to scratch at the back of her neck in amusement at your poor excuse of a lie.

“come on, baby” her eyes still shooting daggers into you, eyelids low but still alluring and intrigued “don’t lie t’me”

“i’m not, honest! i don’t even know what you’re talking about!” you scoffed playfully, hoping she wouldn’t pry any further. but you knew she would. she always did.

“i’m talking about how the whole time we’ve been sitting here you’ve been eyeing me”

“i have not” you emphasized even more.

“oh really?” she said, and you nodded in return. she leaned in closer to you and you watched as her eyes flickered down to your lips and back to your eyes “then why is it that every time my hand reaches your thigh your breathe catches in your throat?”

if your breathe wasn’t hitching when she was touching you, it certainly was now. she looked so divine, practically hovering over you just to tease you like this. you wanted to be mad at her for making you feel so humiliated, but how could you when she was so tempting.

“talk to me,” her voice lowered to a rasp “you know exactly what i’m talking about”

unable to handle the heat, already feeling the blush creep onto your face, you sighed in defeat. you bit your lip and squeezed yours eyes shut as you tried to think of the right words to say. how does one say your tattoos make me want to tear off your clothes and take you right here, right now without sounding like a freak?

“it’s embarrassing, emily. don’t make me say it”

“you don’t have to be embarrassed around me, baby, s’ok” she was met with a moment of silence as you groaned in frustration “why were you staring?”

“your…” another sigh fell from your lips, you were at a loss for words “your tattoos”

“my tattoos?” she smirked “what about them?”

“they’re just so, i don’t know, attractive?” your body cringed as you said it. you tried to avoid her gaze to ease the shame you felt, but you couldn’t help but catch how her smirk formed into a toothy grin “like…god this is so stupid…like they just look so good on you and you look so fucking good all the time. and i just can’t stop looking at you, em, i’m sorry”

with a new found confidence, you continued “your fingers, just the tattoos on them…oh my god emily you have no idea what you do to me. even when you’re just sitting here i can’t resist you”

“wow” she breathed out, lips curled tauntingly “can’t resist me, huh?”

“shut up”

“no no” another laugh fell from her lips. but this time it was soft and relaxed, not seductive to try and coerce some confession out of you “it’s cute, babe. you shouldn’t be embarrassed”

you just rolled your eyes at her, part of you still irritated that you were put in such a position, but another part of you relieved she didn’t mind.

emily let her hands fall down to you legs again, palms flat against you. you could feel the slight callousness of her skin. they pressed into the plushness of your thighs gently as they agonizingly crept their way towards you. she kept her eyes on you, eyelashes low, lips slightly parted. your mouth fell dry as her hands approached the bottoms of your shorts. her fingers toyed with the hems, then eventually pushing their way past the loose fabric until she was met with the silky skin of your hip just under your shorts. then, with little warning, she let her head lower down to your neck. her breathe was hot against you as she let her lips attach, kissing along your body. you gasped upon feeling the sudden sensation, your hands flying up to the back of her head in an attempt to brace yourself.

“all this over some tattoos?” she whispered into your neck “baby…you’re killing me”

“will you be quiet and just kiss me?” you blurted, unable to handle the built up tension.

“anything for you”

and with that, her lips were on yours in an instant. your bodies melting into each other as she showed you just how much she loved you with those damned tattoos.

[jackiepackiee]

I have a request! Can we have atsushi, dazai, ranpo, chuuya (+yasano, if desired you can cut out some characters) with a fem!ballerina s/o

ex: does big roles, (giselle, black swan, clara) and their opinions about her profession. ty!

𝐵𝒮𝒟 𝓍 𝐵𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓃𝒶! 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

𝒲/ 𝒜𝓉𝓈𝓊𝓈𝒽𝒾, 𝒟𝒶𝓏𝒶𝒾, 𝑅𝒶𝓃𝓅𝑜, 𝒞𝒽𝓊𝓊𝓎𝒶, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒴𝑜𝓈𝒶𝓃𝑜

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 - 𝒩𝒶𝓊𝓇

𝒯𝓎𝓅𝑒 - 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓈

Atsushi Nakajima

Whipped

You’re dating for a bit, and he’s seen your practice

But when you invite him to the stage door for a quick good luck kiss before his first show, he’s in AWE

Your costume?! He almost dies

You’re perfect!

(His fav is Sleeping beauty when you’re Aurora)

So when he finally sees you on stage, music and lights and dance

He almost passes out

If it wasn’t for the fact he had to watch you, he would’ve gotten some air

He’s just so in love

He loves to come to rehearsal

So well behaved, completely silent

Just watching you the entire time, in amazement

He doesn’t have money to offer for costumes or lessons, but he will be the biggest supporter in your life

He is however confused by everything

He isn’t very artisticlly intellectual…

And when you first break in your shoes, he screams

He thought you were wasting money and destroying them… if only he knew

He’ll give you massaged each night after shows, especially if you also had a matinee

Dazai Osamu

He is no longer as serious, but he will become the most reserved and mature gentleman you know when he sees your shows

People will think he’s a regular at these events, and everything will look at him with awe

And his attention will only be on you

Obviously he’s going to look at the other performers, but his eyes are glued on you

Secretly bored when you’re not on stage

He’ll see you, but after that he is childish again

Picking you up into his arms, probably coughing from the smell of hairspray in your hair

“Gosh, I can’t breathe! Your hair is perfect, but this is too much.”

And if the ADA happens to be there too? Don’t be surprised

He is always talking about you when work is boring

Atsushi thinks it’s the coolest, and is looking at your like you’re a goddess

(He’s like your son, and he looks up to you. Dazai loves that)

Back to ballet, he will kiss your cheek

But nothing else, he hates to ruin your makeup

And when you come home after?

He holds you all night after a show

He’s a master at anatomy and will massage you your body in every place needed

Before show texts “break a leg, but not actually! Cant wait!”

Overall? A fan, but more of a lover

Ranpo Edogawa

Most people think Ranpo has no attention span, and they’re mostly right…

But! He is fully able to focus on your performance

Loves your darker roles

But that’s mostly because he thinks that darker characters have more depth

This man is a thinker, and while he loves your dancing he prefers the story

And adores the way you are able to tell a story or send a message by your body movement

He loves more feminine roles too, but he appreciates your beauty more than he can focus

That’s the only reason he can stand the shows

Because he can obviously tell the entire story before the first dance sequence is over

You shine on that stage, and he’s infatuated

His eyes are OPEN

After your show, he’ll smile like a little kid

That maturity he had at the show? Gone, he’s himself again

Loves the shows about mysteries

This guy will ask Poe to write a show, and have him hire a choreographer to make a new shoe just for you to star in and for him to enjoy the story

His childish behavior is love, and intense affection because he’s so happy with how well you did

He praises you, so take it

He doesn’t do that for anyone else

Chuuya Nakahara

Classier than ever

Goes to each show with a box seat, sitting alone or with Koyo

Everyone thinks “oh, that guy is so mysterious”

Thinks you’re literally a light in his life

A bright beauty in his dark world

And when you walk onto that stage, he is focused on you like a hawk

Not scary, but such attention to detail that his stare is unbreaking

Not looking at a single other performer, unlessss they are your friend and you tell him about them when you’re rambling about your rehearsals

He’ll give them a glance, but only because he wants to be ready for every single topic of conversation you may wish to have

And when you’re done? He tells you to come out to see him in your costume, even if your director doesn’t allow that

He’s Chuuya Nakahara, he gets what he wants from anyone

He wants to give you a kiss when you look like a doll, dressed up perfectly

He hugs you, and tells you every time

“You were incredible. Go get more comfortable darling, I’ll wait outside the backstage. We will talk in the car. Maybe a little treat is waiting?”

The treat is always exactly what you want

Necklaces? Dress? Tickets to something? It’s there, at the moment you would love it most

Always helps you wash your hair when you get home

Running warm water in his fancy shower, hands making quick work on your hair and all the products that held it together

Will buy one of those high tech foot massagers for when you’re done

He hates how you’re in pain

And will do anything to make you feel better

Because you’re perfect, and he loves you

Yosano Akiko

Brags to each and EVERY member of the agency

Makes all of them attended at least one show

(Her favorite is black swan, you’re just sexy in that one 🤷🏻‍♀️)

If you could see her from on stage while you’re preforming (obviously you can’t) you’d see her paying more attention to you than she has to anything in her entire life

You’re the dainty and sweet girlfriend, and she’s your badass man-killer woman

She is incredible at anatomy, and gives you the best tips on warming up

Best ways to strengthen and grow your muscles without getting larger

Ugh, she’ll put her hands on your waist while teaching you how to twist and turn to stretch a certain way

You know how she loves shopping?

She will make at least one date a month a shopping date

Making sure to buy the most high tech and recommend leotards for practice

New shoes that need breaking in?

She owns at least 14 hammers

Nails? Gone. Foot board? Snapped into shape.

Thinks you’re PERFECT but is the best shot talker of the others?

The girl who thinks she deserved the lead, but didn’t get it so she hates on you?

Yeah, a glass of wine and Akiko will tear that girl to shreds with insults

But she’s supportive!!

Pretty girlfriend x sexy girlfriend life

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Synonyms for love?

Love—strong affection for another arising out of kinship or personal ties; a beloved person; to hold dear; to like or desire actively

Admire - to feel respect and approval for

Adoration - the act of adoring

Adore - to regard with loving admiration and devotion

Adulation - extreme or excessive admiration or flattery

Affection - a feeling of liking and caring for someone or something; tender attachment

Allegiance - devotion or loyalty to a person, group, or cause

Amative - relating to or indicative of love

Amorous - indicative of, or relating to love

Appreciation - a feeling or expression of admiration, approval, or gratitude

Ardor - loyalty

Attachment - affectionate regard

Beloved - dearly loved; dear to the heart

Cherish - to feel or show affection for

Craving - an intense, urgent, or abnormal desire or longing

Crush - an intense and usually passing infatuation

Cup of tea - a person suited to one's taste

Darling - a dearly loved person

Dear - a loved one; highly valued

Desire - longing, craving; exhibit or feel desire for

Devotion - the fact or state of being ardently dedicated and loyal

Eagerness - marked by enthusiastic or impatient desire or interest

Enchant - to attract and move deeply; rouse to ecstatic admiration

Enthusiasm - strong excitement of feeling; ardor

Esteem - high regard; to set a high value on

Fancy - amorous fondness; like

Favorite - one that is treated or regarded with special favor or liking

Fealty - intense fidelity

Fervor - intensity of feeling or expression

Fidelity - the quality or state of being faithful

Fondness - tender affection

Inamorata - a woman with whom one is in love or has intimate relations

Infatuation - a feeling of foolish or obsessively strong love for, admiration for, or interest in someone or something

Jewel - one that is highly esteemed

Like - to feel attraction toward or take pleasure in; preference

Longing - a strong desire especially for something unattainable; craving

Paramour - lover; specifically: an illicit or secret lover

Partiality - a special taste or liking

Passion - ardent affection

Predilection - an established preference for something

Preference - a person or thing that is preferred over others

Respect - high or special regard

Revere - to show devoted deferential honor to

Swain - a male admirer or suitor

Sweetheart - someone who is loved

Treasure - to hold or keep as precious

Truelove - one truly beloved or loving

Value - to consider or rate highly

Venerate - to regard with reverential respect or with admiring deference

Yearning - a tender or urgent longing

Zeal - eagerness and ardent interest in pursuit of something

Hope this helps! Would love to read your work if it does. Writing Resources PDFs

More: Word Lists ⚜ On Love ⚜ Words related to Love ⚜ Word List: Love

[littlepeach-world]

How about headcanons frontman x player! reader, reader notices that the staff has started to treat her more gently than other players, which worries her. And then she'll lose and fall into the hands of the frontman

Frontman falling for Player!Reader HC

Pairing: Frontman/Hwang In-Ho x Player!Reader

Warnings: Obsessive!Inho, Abduction, Power Imbalance, Psychological Distress, Possessive!Inho, Moral Dilemmas.

Word count: 730

Notes: Thank you sm for the request. I've never written a headcanon before, so I’m sorry if this sucks lol 🧡

In-ho is taken aback the moment he sees you on the screen during Red Light, Green Light. Your beauty captivates him, but it's your graceful, swift movements that leave him mesmerized. His eyes are glued to you, unable to look away even if he tries. He feels an inexplicable pull towards you, as if you walked right out of a dream, leaving him both in awe and confusion.

Your selflessness stands out in the brutal world of the games. You help other players, ensure their well-being, and stand up for them. Each act of kindness only deepens In-ho’s infatuation, pulling him further under your spell.

In-ho wrestles with his feelings, knowing that they are a dangerous weakness. He tries to push them away, but his heart continually pulls him back to you. The internal struggle intensifies with each passing day.

As he monitors the games, In-ho finds himself rooting for you, an overwhelming worry for your safety gnawing at him. He battles with his internal beliefs about the fairness of the game, restraining himself from running in to save you.

One night, In-ho dreams of you. It's a vivid and haunting vision where you radiate an almost ethereal glow, your presence so strong that he wakes up in a cold sweat. The dream leaves a lasting imprint, making it impossible for him to get you out of his mind.

After the dream, In-ho finds himself consumed by thoughts of you 24/7. His mind fixates on your every move, your expressions, and your interactions with other players. This intense focus evolves into an obsession, as he feels a desperate need to know about your every whereabouts.

He begins to monitor you more closely, watching the screens for any sign of you. Every action you take is noted, analyzed, and etched into his memory. The surveillance intended for cold, efficient observation becomes a means for him to feel connected to you.

The deeper his obsession grows, the more he fights with himself. Rationally, he understands the perilous nature of such feelings in the context of the game. But emotionally, he can't help but be drawn to you, driven by a powerful urge to protect you at all costs.

Despite his internal conflict, In-ho subtly influences the guards’ treatment of you. He ensures you receive extra food, additional blankets, and vitamins. He goes as far as arranging for you to be the last player in one of the games, making it easier for him to protect you.

You begin to feel singled out due to the preferential treatment, which only heightens your anxiety. Other players notice the difference, growing suspicious and further distressing you. The isolation within the group becomes palpable.

During the marble game, you choose to forfeit, accepting your fate to save your childhood friend. You close your eyes, ready to accept what’s to come, a mixture of peace and fear settling in.

You hear a gunshot but feel no pain. Opening your eyes, you see a bullet shell on the floor. Shock overtakes you as a hand covers your mouth, pulling you away. 

Being pulled away during the marble game, you slip into unconsciousness. When you wake up, you find yourself lying in a luxurious black and gold room.

The door opens and a figure dressed in black clothing and wearing a black mask steps in. 

Without a word, the figure removes his mask, revealing a very handsome man. He steps closer and introduces himself, “Hwang In-ho.” 

In-ho calmly explains, “I saved you from the game. And I will continue to save you for as long as it takes.” His voice carries a tone of unwavering determination, leaving no room for doubt about his intentions.

As he speaks, you notice the look on his face—a potent mix of possessiveness, darkness, and passion. The possessiveness in his gaze is palpable, as if he’s silently declaring that you belong to him. The intensity in his eyes makes you shiver. You’re caught between a sense of uncertainty—wondering what his true intentions are—and a curiosity that pulls you in, unable to look away.

The depth of his emotions raises an unsettling question in your mind: What does ‘as long as it takes’ truly mean? The combination of his unwavering commitment and the darkness in his gaze suggests a level of obsession you cannot yet fully comprehend.

[sgfgmichaelrry]

thinking about how bob’s eyes would widen when he sees you slide down to your knees, his sweatpants and boxers (wet from when he came in his pants earlier) pulled off his ankles with your feverish hands. your hands smooth up the soft expanse of his thighs, and the gentle kisses you press against his thigh have his chest rising and falling with a particular intensity.

your lips curl up into a sly smile as you lay your head against his knee, staring up at him with a teasing glint in your eyes. “is my pretty boy out of breath just from me kissin’ around his cock?”

his eyes squeeze shut as he nods his head hurriedly, his fingers holding desperately on to the mattress comforter.

you let out a cocky chuckle at his blushing cheeks, inching your hands closer to his pulsing length and dripping precum. at the swipe of your thumb across his pretty tip, bob lets out a strangled moan, the sound vibrating from his chest.

“does my pretty boy like it when i tease him like this?”

bob gulps, the desperation in his belly burning hotter with each stroke across his cock. “fuck, yes. please-“ his whines tumble from his lips, and you’re left with no choice but to please the whimpering man before you.

you bring your mouth to his tip, pressing your lips in an array of kisses on the soft skin while bob bucked his hips towards you, relishing in the minute pleasure he’s receiving. your warm hand moves to grip onto his plush thigh, and your tongue begins painting the canvas of his pretty cock.

with each pass of your warm mouth against his cock, bob fought the urge to thread his fingers through your strands until eventually, you took him fully into your mouth. with one hand firm on his leg and the other staking claim on his base, your lips suctioned around his length and bobbed with immense fervor, your hand’s stroke following rapidly behind.

grunts of pleasure escaped from bob’s chest, and the chase towards his high was marked by his insistent whines. “fuck, princess, mmm, you’re too good, mmh. for me.”

your eyes met his, unwavering as his cock bullied in and out of your mouth. your tongue creeped out and traced the vein beneath his cock, and bob could have sworn he could pass out right there.

you popped off of his length with a particular pop, bringing your hand from his base and stroking up to his tip. you pushed off his knees and returned your lips to his, the sweet exchange of infatuation juxtaposing the sinful swipes of your thumb against his leaking tip.

[adoralineangel]

—WHEN IT HAPPENED TO ME.

rafe cameron x pogue!reader

partially inspired by 'we hug now' by sydney rose

content warnings— 18+ MDNI, original afab!reader, drug/alcohol use, suggestive, strong language, angst, author's first time writing "x readers" in four years...if this is bad, that's why.

author's note— please send in requests :)

SUMMARY: you were warned, that's why when it all came crashing down — you had no one to blame but yourself.

a drunken night at the boneyard caused you to land in rafe cameron's arms, swaying to the music on the speaker that some touron brought.

chasing highs would always crash down eventually.

rafe was the first guy who ever made you feel good about being you, the first guy you had sex with, snuck out of your house to meet, who told you he loved you, that he wanted you, that he needed you.

two months since august meant two months since rafe went no contact with you.

no warning, no explanation, just your mind constantly at war with what you did wrong to make him leave.

your friends did their best to distract you, treating you as if your three-month romance with the kook king himself never happened. that they weren't betrayed when they found out that you were hooking up with rafe.

but the memories of him haunted you ever since. his calloused hands that touched you at night only so that no one could see you together, his soft lips that whispers faux promises that sounded so real, you believed him.

the pogues successfully got you out tonight, jj claiming that "beer and a kush joint he got from his cousin" would be just what you all needed.

you're standing next to pope whose doing a poor job at sneaking concerned glances at you, while john b and jj crack open the keg as everyone lines up for a cup.

kie hands you a cup, "shitty beer but it'll get the job done," she smiles.

giving her an appreciated nod, you immediately bring the bitter liquid to your mouth. your eyes scan the boneyard - taking in the pogues, tourons, and kooks who are all letting loose.

turning to face the ocean, you meet his intense presence. though his back is to you, you only notice the girl who's wrapped around his arm. her hair is short, bob-ish in a way, she looks at him the way you used to. infatuated.

you don't know how long you've been staring until sarah's presence makes herself known.

"you shouldn't look," her words were soft. "my brother's such a dick, i'm sorry."

your eyes meets her sympathetic ones. "it's fine," you shrug. "doesn't matter."

you both know you're lying but neither of you cares to mention it.

two hours have passed, you've thrown yourself into your cups. badly dancing with jj, laughing at dumb jokes he cracked at his expense to make you laugh — he always knew what to do to make you feel better.

you're happily wasted, for the first time in months, rafe isn't on your mind. with stumbling footsteps and slurred words, you find yourself enjoying your night.

wherever rafe was with his new girl, you told yourself that you didn't care.

that when his lips would touch hers, you wouldn't feel as if you were punched in the gut, that jealousy didn't maim you to your bones.

after a while of swaying to music, yapping loudly with your friends, you find your feet leading you to a secluded part of the boneyard. the need for quiet overwhelmed your impaired judgements.

finding a log by the ocean, you let yourself relax, taking in the sand between your toes and the nice buzz you got from jj's joint.

when you hear laughter, your head turns.

rafe and her are walking next to one another, drunkenly stumbling as they kiss one another. your heart drops, eyes wide, when you make eye contact with him.

you think he might've tensed up when your eyes meet, but he does a good job at recovering, as if you meant nothing to him.

never one good at communication or confrontation, your eyes fall back to the sand. you overanalyze the way it looks, how it feels, your body being completely aware of his presence. as it always was.

their laughs echoed through the beach, he looked as if he got everything he wanted, not wasting time stuck here like you.

despite your better judgements, you look up to find him one more time. she's still clinging onto him, leaning onto his chest the same way you used to. his eyes aren't fixed on hers anymore, rather they're intensely looking back at you.

he looks...cautious? like you're an injured animal that's ready to break. is that what you were now? damaged?

with intensified eyes, you meet his. the alcohol in your system gives you the courage to do so, to not entirely back down.

neither of you say anything, or think to walk towards the other person— rather the both of you just chooses to stare.

thinking about the what-ifs, could-have-beens, if only he didn't allow himself to break your heart.

after another moment of reminiscing on his face, taking in the slope of his nose, his cerulean eyes, you're the first one to break eye contact.

maybe he thought your relationship was just a small thing that happened, but the world ended when it happened to you.

[lowkeyren]

dangerous infatuation!

in which — you encounter blade while travelling on the xianzhou luofu with the astral express, who saves you from danger, and asks for a reward in return.

pairing — blade x fem!reader (use of she/her pronouns)

₊˚⊹♡ — wc: ~1.2k, from req: here!, 500 words i said to myself and then i end up here, heart squeezed when i saw the ask, blade kissers rise!!!!!!! pls enjoy xx reblogs r much appreciated <3

walking through the unusually crowded streets of starskiff haven, you can’t help but be awed by the sight of the place. it was your first time on the xianzhou luofu, alongside you are your friends from the astral express. march was ahead, animatedly chatting with welt; while you lingered at the rear, taking in the sights.

the air was thick with the mingling scents of exotic spices and freshly cooked street food, engulfing your senses with every breath. in the midst of the bustling crowd, you spot a man who seems oddly out of place. his sole presence draws your attention, and when he catches your gaze, he locks eyes with you, returning your stare with a piercing intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

beside him stands an elegant woman, a jacket casually draped over her shoulders. but your eyes remain locked on the man; his compelling gaze holds a magnetic pull, and you find yourself unable to tear your eyes away. observing his features, he seems more and more familiar to you.

hey… he kinda looks like the guy on the wanted posters you’re seeing everywhere?? and that woman beside him too!

you don't notice yourself falling behind your friends until march calls out to you. “hey slowpoke, c’mon let’s go!” her words snap you out of your trance, and you quickly yell back an acknowledgment, before turning your attention back to the man —but he’s nowhere to be found.

a pang of disappointment washes over you as you scan the sea of faces, searching in vain for any sign of him. it's as if he was never there to begin with; with a heavy sigh, you reluctantly turn away, following march's lead as you weave through the people.

but even as you walk, your mind remains preoccupied with thoughts of him, his image burned into your memory like a flickering flame refusing to be extinguished, leaving you longing for another glimpse.

“hmm bladie… something caught your eye?” kafka's voice breaks through the air, a teasing lilt dancing in her tone. blade’s gaze follows you as you move along with your companions, “find out who she is.”

kafka matches his line of sight, spotting you in the distance. “ah.. the newest member of the astral express crew” she continues without waiting for his response, "you seem to have taken quite a liking to her."

blade doesn’t confirm nor deny her words, eliciting a knowing smirk from kafka.

the next few days on luofu feels…unsettling. you can’t shake the feeling of being watched, a prickling sensation that crawled along your skin; a shadow lurking just beyond your peripheral vision. every corner you turned, every alley you passed felt fraught with a sense of unease.

you arrive upon an alleyway, stopping to take a breather. then you feel that ominous feeling again, causing your hair to stand on end. a sudden, loud thump echoes in the distance, causing you to whirl your head in that direction. you find a man unconscious, sprawled on the ground; instinctively, your body tenses, and your eyes widen in shock.

before you can make a sound, a bandaged hand reaches out, silencing you with its firm grip over your mouth; a voice breaks through the stillness from behind you, “don’t yell.” your heart skips a beat as the hoarse voice brushes against your ear, the unexpected touch sends a jolt of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

“...who are you?” your voice muffling against the hand.

“knowing who i am is unnecessary.” the grip on your mouth loosens slightly. without hesitation, you whip around, your weapon materializing in your hand, ready to defend yourself. but before you’re able to strike, your hand is seized mid-air, halting your movement abruptly.

“i-it’s you!” the dim light of the alleyway casts shadows across his features, but you still recognize him. “what did you do t—” your words are cut off by the sound of approaching footsteps. in a swift motion, blade pulls you into a more secluded area, his body pressing tightly against yours.

guards swarm around the unconscious man, inspecting him closely. “that guy,” blade nudges his head in the direction of the man, “i saw him following you around.” everything in your head starts to click into place; he continues, “see that needle there.. he spiked it with sedatives earlier today.”

your pulse quickens as his words sink in, “don’t worry, he’s not dead, just…asleep, for a while.” (for a long while)

“i’m sorry, i thought you were going to hurt me— thank you…” he nods in acknowledgement. you can feel the warmth radiating from his body as he remains close even after the crowd has dispersed, a hint of blush colouring his cheeks, a contrast to his stoic look. you turn your head away, flustered by your proximity, your cheeks warming as you try to gather your thoughts.

he grasps your chin with his hand, your cheeks squished between his fingers; turning your head back and tilting it up to meet his gaze. “i just saved your life, aren’t you going to give me a reward?” you blink, trying to process his words, your face growing warmer each passing second under his intense scrutiny. part of you knows that this is wrong and wants to pull away, but another part is inexplicably drawn to his presence.

with a shaky breath, you manage to stammer out, "w-what kind of reward are you expecting?" your voice wavers. “you know exactly what i mean.” he remarks with a subtle smirk.

you decide to follow the urging of your heart, you lean in, pressing your lips against his, a brief and fleeting kiss. just as you begin to pull away, he pushes his other hand against the back of your head, drawing you back, deepening the kiss.

“[name]! where are you?”

march’s voice breaks through the moment, prompting you to push blade away abruptly. his annoyance evident in the slight downturn of his lips, and the subtle furrow of his brow. however, he quickly masks his emotions, returning to his usual deadpan face.

you give him an apologetic look as you peek out cautiously, catching a glimpse of march and welt’s figures in the distance, “i’m sorry bl—” you turn back only to find nothing except silence that surrounds you.

how does this man just keep vanishing into thin air?!

you shake off the lingering sensations, consciously calming yourself down from the rush of emotions stirred by the kiss. you place your fingertips against your lips, still tingling from the ghostly imprint of his touch; your heart thuds rapidly in your chest, each beat echoing loudly in your ears

oh aeons, you just kissed a criminal.

—

“bladie… looks like you enjoyed yourself, huh?”

"what?"

“you’re not fooling anyone” kafka points at her own lips.

what kind of smudge-proof lipstick do you wear… well at least it works... super well. he has a stain on the corner of his lips for the next few days.

“bro… you’re actually so downbad LOL. y'want me to track her location or sum?”

"...no need, i'll find her myself."

silverwolf won’t stop calling him a “simp”, whatever that means.

₊˚⊹♡

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